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PRKSENTKI) liY 



A Woman's Story 
(^Pioneer Illinois 



tClje iLakestDe Classics 

A Woman's Story 
of Fioneer Illinois 

By Christiana Holmes Tillson 



edited by 



MILO MILTON QUAIFE 

Superintendent of 
The State Historical Society of Wisconsin 



With Tivo Portraits 




R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY 
CHRISTMAS, MCMXIX 



TS4S 



Qin 



I^ublfsil^ersi' pvtiact 



A S the subject matter of these annual vol- 
/\ umes has drifted into the hne of the 
■^ ^ history of early Chicago and the con- 
tiguous territory, "so has the publishers' pref- 
ace unconsciously taken on the form of an 
annual report of its apprenticeship school 
to the friends and patfons of The Lakeside 
Press. 

Last year we wrote of the war record of the 
boys and young men, and of our anticipation 
of their return to the case, the press, or the 
desk. It then seemed to all of us that, the war 
being over, we would drop back quickly into 
our accustomed ways of daily living. But we 
had forgotten our history, which tells us that 
the recovery from the destruction and license 
of war to the ways of orderly and ample pro- 
duction leads through a period of mounting 
prices and difficult readjustment. 

The War of Nations has been followed by 
industrial strife — a state no less nerve racking 
to those responsible for carrying on the nation's 
business than actual warfare was to those in 
high places of national responsibility. 



^nbli^l^n^' preface 



Fortunately, during this troublous year The 
Lakeside Press has had no strikes or even 
threats of strikes. Perhaps the most obvious 
reasons for this condition are: the belief of 
the management in the efficacy of the square 
deal; their determination that no outside inter- 
ference shall come between the personal rela- 
tionship of management and workman; and the 
loyalty of the graduate apprentices. 

The value of giving thought and pains to 
the careful selection and proper training of ap- 
prentices has again unexpectedly been proved. 
Not only are the graduates men of unusual 
skill, but they have shown a loyalty to The Press 
and its ideals that cannot be measured in sums 
of money. 

Of the fifty-two apprentices and graduates 
that served in the war, two were killed in action 
and forty-seven have returned to The Press as 
**home." Whatever the future may have in 
store in the way of industrial disturbance — 
and who in these days would dare to prophesy 
— we feel confident that **our boys" will always 
be loyal and a tower of strength. 

"The Memoirs of Christiana Holmes Till- 
son" gives us another book of the life of the 
pioneers of Illinois. Written by Mrs. Tillson 
in her late years, to be circulated only among 
her family and close friends, it has an intimate 
family touch that wins our hearts for her 
charming womanliness, and admiration for her 
cheerful pluck. 



^u6li^l)cr^' l^reface 



We are again indebted to Mr. Milo M. Quaife 
for bringing this rare book to our attention and 
for his scholarly care in editing it. 

That this little book may bring a quiet 
hour of forgetfulness in these troublous times 
is the earnest hope of 

THE PUBLISHERS. 



Historical Introduction 



f ijitot;(cal 3!tttt;oDuction 



IN The Lakeside Classics for 191 8 were pre- 
sented several pictures, by contemporary 
observers, of society and conditions in 
Illinois a century ago. In the present volume 
we return to the same field, and in the narra- 
tive of Mrs. Christiana Holmes Tillson afford 
to twentieth-century readers a graphic charac- 
terization of the life of the founders of Illinois 
as it was lived and later recorded by an acute 
observer of New England lineage and rearing. 
Between the Illinois described by Mrs. 
Tillson and the present highly industrialized 
commonwealth of over six million people lies 
a great gulf. Probably there would be no 
exaggeration in saying that in all the material 
aspects of life the dweller in rural Illinois in 
1820 (and all Illinois was then rural) if trans- 
planted to the Illinois of today would find fewer 
familiar objects and more occasion for aston- 
ishment than would the rural contemporary 
of Augustus Caesar if similarly transplanted 
to the Illinois of 1820. Only by a conscious 
effort of the imagination, therefore, supple- 
mented by the aid of some definite informa- 
tion, can the present-day reader visualize the 
conditions which supply the setting for Mrs. 
Tillson's story. An excellent picture of them 



i^i^toncal S^nttotiuction 

can be found in the opening chapter of the 
second volume of the Centennial Histo?-y of 
Illinois ^ The area of settlement a century ago 
is sketched in the following words: 

"On the day when Illinois was both territory 
and state its population of some 35,000 lay in 
two columns on opposite sides of the state, 
resting on the connection with the outside 
world furnished by the Mississippi, the Ohio, 
and the Wabash Rivers respectively. The 
population clustered in the rich river bottom, 
gift of the Mississippi, where Illinois history 
began, and in the neighborhood of the United 
States saline in Gallatin County. It tended 
always to make settlements on water courses 
for the sake of securing timber, water, and 
easy communication. Away from the rivers 
lay an unpopulated region in the interior 
of southern Illinois, where the traveler to 
St. Louis or Kaskaskia who preferred to cut 
across by road from Vincennes or Shawnee- 
town rather than pole up the Mississippi 
could still stage tales of robbers, murders, and 
hairbreadth escapes. On the east, population 
had crept north, clinging closely to the Wabash, 
as far as the present Edgar County. On the 
west, settlements had reached the southern 
part of Calhoun County and were pushing up 
the creeks into Greene and Macoupin; they 
had also followed the Kaskaskia and its south- 

^ Theodore C. Pease, The Frontier State, 1818-1848. 
(Springfield, 19181, 2-3. 

xii 



i$i$totital S^ntroDuction 

flowing tributaries, so that settlements lay- 
in Bond, Clinton, and Washington Counties. 
Elsewhere there was wilderness. 

"To the north of the area of settlement lay 
another world distinct and independent from 
that to the south. The Kickapoo Indians still 
inhabited central lUinois, and the Sauk and 
Foxes, chastised in the war of i8i2, but still 
morose, occupied a little of the territory north- 
west of the Illinois River — the Military Bounty 
Tract — though this had for some time been 
surveyed and allotted in military bounties to 
soldiers of the War of 1 8 12. The main 
strength of the Sauk and Foxes in Illinois, 
however, lay in the territory near the junction 
of the Rock and the Mississippi, where Fort 
Armstrong on Rock Island had lately arisen 
to overawe them. In the territory east of 
them lay villages of Winnebago and Potawa- 
tomi. Among them in northern Illinois and 
on the Illinois and the Wabash Rivers wandered 
the fur traders of the American Fur Company; 
these came south down the lake in their Macki- 
naw boats each fall, dragged their boats over 
the Chicago Portage to the Des Plaines River, 
went into winter trading posts along the Illinois, 
from which trading expeditions were sent out 
during the winter, and carried their harvest of 
furs to Mackinac in the spring. Besides Fort 
Armstrong there lay in this district Fort Ed- 
wards on the Mississippi, Fort Clark at the 
present site of Peoria, and Fort Dearborn; 



j^i.0torical 3^ntroDuction 

though as Indian dangers waned and Indian 
cessions were consummated, the forts were 
successively abandoned." 

Of intellectual and spiritual conditions some 
conception can be gained from the perusal 
of Mrs. Tillson's story. Whether on physical 
or on intellectual and spiritual grounds, one 
finds in it little support for the ever-popular 
delusion concerning a halcyon state of affairs 
connected with the period somewhat vaguely 
designated "the good old times." Men and 
women of culture and good breeding were by 
no means unknown to th^ Illinois of 1820, but 
the general level of culture was, at least as com- 
pared with present-day standards, distressingly 
low. Mrs. Tillson's story records the reactions 
produced upon a refined New England wom- 
an by an environment at once predominantly 
southern and wholly frontier. For half a cen- 
tury Illinois has been regarded as a northern 
state. But the society known and described 
by Mrs. Tillson was preeminently southern in 
origin and in sentiment. In 1 8 18, in a popula- 
tion of some 35,000, four persons out of every 
six were of southern stock, one was of foreign 
origin, and one of northern (New England or 
Middle Atlantic) antecedents. The northerner 
was prone to look with amused condescension 
upon the slovenly ways and provincial ignorance 
of his southern neighbor; while the latter re- 
paid with interest this attitude of condescension, 
regarding the very name of Yankee, by which 



the northern man was known, as connoting 
quahties not to be spoken of between friends. 
Only by the exercise of much patience and for- 
bearance was it possible for the two elements 
to associate on terms of neighborly equality. 
From the viewpoint of Illinois local history the 
peculiar value of Mrs. Tillson's story consists 
in the light the author sheds, sometimes even 
unconsciously, on this sectional aspect of pio- 
neer Illinois society. 

Equally valuable is it, however, from another 
point of view. The most famous son of Illi- 
nois is credited with a saying to the effect that 
God must love the common people, since he 
has made so many of them. Reasoning from 
similar grounds it may be asserted that God 
regards the female sex at least as highly as the 
male. But the reader of the pages of recorded 
history would never be led to suspect this. 
Why, it is not my present purpose to inquire; 
rather, having called attention to the fact, I 
wish to show the significance of Mrs. Tillson's 
narrative. Commonly, history is written by 
men and from the masculine point of view. 
The interests, the labors, the ideals, and achieve- 
ments of the gentler half of society are taken 
for granted or left to the imagination. The in- 
adequacy, not to say the injustice, of such a 
portrayal of history is self-evident. With un- 
erring finger and with pen more magic than 
my own the latest historian of the cow country, 
America's last frontier, has pointed to the 



l^i^torical S^ntrobuction 

woman in the sunbonnet as the supreme figure 
in the history of the West: 2 
/ "The chief figure of the American West, 
the figure of the age, is not the long-haired, 
f ringed-legginged man riding a raw-boned pony, 
but the gaunt and sad-faced woman sitting on 
the front seat of the wagon, following her lord 
where he might lead, her face hidden in the 
same ragged sunbonnet which had crossed the 
Appalachians and the Missouri long before. 
That was America, my brethren ! There was 
the seed of America's wealth. There was the 
great romance of all America — the woman in 
the sunbonnet; and not, after all, the hero 
with the rifle across his saddle horn. Who 
has written her story? Who has painted her 
picture.?" 

Regretfully must we reply to the writer's 
rhetorical questions, "No one. " Sadly must 
we admit the probability that this story will 
never be adequately told. All the more, then, 
should we treasure the scattering fragments 
which have come to us out of the souls of our 
pioneer women. If we do not know their 
story, at least it is not Mrs. Tillson's fault. 
From her pages we may draw an impressive 
picture of the omnipresent burden of toil laid 
upon the pioneer housewife, and one clear 
illustration of the way this burden was borne. 
In perusing it the reader should bear in mind 

-Emerson Hough, The Passins^ of the Frontier: A 
Chronicle of the. Old West. (New Haven, 1918), 93-94. 



i^i^torical ^fntrotiuction 

the fact that Mrs. Tillson's lot was relatively 
favored. Her husband was a man of education 
and means, able to provide for her the best the 
frontier community afforded. Means aside, he 
was a man of breeding and sobriety, a leader in 
the business and religious life of his community. 
How much darker the life of many a pioneer 
woman might have been is but dimly suggested 
in such pictures as that of Brice Hanna and 
the more typical one, perhaps, of Jesse Buzan. 
The Tillson family was of early New Eng- 
land hneage. John Tillson, our author's hus- 
band, was a native of Halifax, Plymouth 
County, Massachusetts, where his ancestors 
for several generations had resided. Aside 
from his real estate speculations, in which he 
soon achieved prosperity, he early became 
prominent and influential in Illinois, and 
throughout his life was active in educational 
and benevolent enterprises. He was the 
moving spirit in the founding of Hillsboro 
Academy, and he was also a trustee of Illinois 
College from its founding until his death. He 
was the first merchant and the first postmaster 
of Hillsboro, and the builder, as Mrs. Tillson 
relates, of the first brick house in Montgomery 
County. He was actively interested in reli- 
gious affairs and was one of two charter mem- 
bers of the first Presbyterian church at Hills- 
boro. It is illuminating to note that such a 
man was very early driven by force of circum- 
stances into becoming a slave-holder. Mr. 



Tillson took some part in politics and was one 
of the state fund commissioners for building 
the railroads of the state in the early thirties. 
The panic of 1837 shattered his private fortune 
and he left Montgomery County. He died 
suddenly of apoplexy at Peoria in May, 1853, 
at the age of fifty-seven. 

Christiana Holmes Tillson, our author, was 
born at Kingston, Massachusetts, March 13, 
1796. In October, 1822, she married John 
Tillson and immediately set out with him for 
Illinois, whither he had first gone to live in 
1 8 19. Her story of the next few years, told 
in old age for the benefit of her youngest 
daughter, is the subject-matter of our volume. 
Mrs. Tillson is characterized in Bateman and 
Selby's Histor-ical Encyclopaedia of Illinois ?iS 
"a woman of rare culture and refinement and 
deeply interested in benevolent enterprises." 
She died in New York City, May 29, 1 872. 

Of the children born to Mr. and Mrs. Tillson, 
two should be noted here. Charles Holmes 
Tillson was born at Hillsboro, September 15, 
1823. He graduated at Illinois College in 
1844, studied law, and practiced several years 
at St. Louis. He died in 1865 at the early 
age of forty-two. A touching tribute to his 
memory, paid by his brother, states: "We 
never — running recollection back to boyhood 
— saw him exhibit anger; never knew him 
uncivil; never beheld him otherwise than 
pleasant, genial, considerate. This was his 



I^i^totical 3^nttoDuction 

proverbial characteristic, and the gentle dignity 
that would not let itself be ruffled, parried all 
harsh feeling and drew to him universal love. 
He knew no enemies, and had none." 

Another son, John Tillson, Jr., born at Hills- 
boro in October, 1825, also studied law, prac- 
ticing at Quincy and for a time at Galena. 
He entered the Civil War in the Tenth Illinois 
Infantry, rose to be its colonel, and was mus- 
tered out in July, 1 865, with the brevet of 
a brigadier general. He later edited the 
Quincy Whig for a short time, served in the 
General Assembly of Illinois, and was for 
several years collector of internal revenue for 
the Quincy district. He died August 6, 1892. 

Of the Tillson family group it remains to 
note only Robert Tillson, brother-in-law of our 
author. He was born at Halifax, Massachu- 
setts, in August, 1800, and came to Illinois with 
his brother and sister-in-law on their bridal 
journey in the autumn of 1822. His doings 
at Hillsboro until 1827 are described in our 
narrative. For a year or so he kept store in 
St. Louis, but in 1828 removed his stock to 
Quincy on a keel-boat and started the first 
general store ever established there. He 
followed store keeping several years. In ad- 
dition, he turned his attention to real estate, 
and with the growth of Quincy became wealthy. 
He died December 23, 1892, in his ninety-third 
year. 

Mrs. Tillson wrote her narrative during the 



i^i^torical 3^ntratiuction 

last invalid hours of her life for the instruction 
and entertainment of her youngest daughter, 
who had been born too late to have personal 
knowledge of the scenes described in it. After 
her death it was privately printed, apparently at 
Amherst, Massachusetts, by the children for the 
information of members and friends of the fam- 
ily. Under these circumstances the title origi- 
nally given the narrative, "Reminiscences of 
Early Life in Illinois by Our Mother," was not 
inappropriate. In reissuing it after the lapse of 
almost half a century, because of its value as 
a historical document, and for a widespread 
circle of readers who have no knowledge of, 
and no personal interest in, the author, it seems 
better to call it **A Woman's Story of Pioneer 
Illinois. " The original edition has long since 
become excessively rare. Indeed, we know of 
the existence of but five copies, two in the 
Quincy Historical Museum, one in the Chicago 
Historical Society Library, one in the Illinois 
State Historical Library at Springfield, and 
the one made use of by the present editor in 
the library of the State Historical Society of 
Wisconsin at Madison. A narrative so valu- 
able and interesting deserves a wider audience 
than it has thus far enjoyed, and the fresh 
lease of life which will be afforded through 
making it one of the Lakeside Classics. We 
derive some satisfaction, too, from the thought 
that could Mrs. Tillson see her story in the 
dignified and simple dress which is now given 



l^i^torical S^nttotiuction 

it, the sight would bring a thrill of pleasure to 
her refined and artistic nature. 

In conclusion it may be noted that the 
present editor has ignored the typography of the 
original edition, and has in certain instances 
made minor textual emendations which the sense 
of the narrative seemed clearly to call for. 

MILO M. QUAIFE 
Wisconsin Historical Library 

Madison. Wisconsin 



( 






A Woman's Story 
of Pioneer Illinois 



of 

pioneer 3!lWttot)S 



Amherst, Mass., June 28, 18'jo, 
My Dear Daughter: 

WHENEVER you have expressed a 
wish that I would write out some of 
my early western experiences, I have 
felt an inclination to comply with your request, 
but ill health and other hindrances have pre- 
vented. As writing is not my forte, I do not 
feel that I can produce anything which will at 
present interest you much; but my own ap- 
preciation of every record left me by my 
good mother and my dear husband makes me 
feel that I may leave you something which 
will interest you in after life, more than at 
the present time. 

Although you have spent the greater part of 
your life at the West, the accumulation of 
comforts, and the luxuries and improvements 
forty or fifty years have brought, and which 
are there so liberally enjoyed, forbid the real- 
ization of frontier life to those who have not 
by stern experience passed through such an 
ordeal; and though we have many pleasant 
3 



3t 5^omau'^ ^torp 



recollections, I think, as a whole, the retrospect 
is preferable to the reality. Few would like 
to again pass through the bitterness for the 
sake of enjoying the remembrance of the few 
sweets. 

Your father's date of western life was three 
and a half years earlier than mine. He went 
to Illinois in the spring of 1819, and I did not 
go until the autumn of 1822. He, of course, 
had a sterner experience of backwoods life 
than I had; he also had a stronger develop- 
ment of hope, and a most indomitable energy 
that carried him through all the disagreeables 
that came in his way. It is rare to find one so 
amiable in every relation in his intercourse 
with the world, both socially and in business 
transactions, who yet could be so determined 
and persevering in whatever he undertook to 
do. His boyhood and early manhood were 
spent with his parents on the old farm at Hali- 
fax, attending the district school winters and 
working on the farm in the summer. The latter 
— working on the farm — he performed from 
obedience to his father's wishes, not that he 
liked it. His father, at that time, was consid- 
ered the richest man in that part of Halifax, and 
with the exception of Stafford Sturtevant, his 
cousin, the richest man in town. Dr. Shurt- 
leff,^ who was a kind of family oracle, tried to 
persuade his father to send him to college, but 

^This was Dr. Benjamin Shurtleflf, later of Boston, 
in whose honor Shurtleff College at Alton is named. 

4 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



the reason given was, not that he could not 
afford it, but that if John went the two younger 
brothers would feel that they had the same 
right, and he might not be able to send all. 
So your father was sent for six months to 
Bridgewater Academy, each of the others being 
sent at the same age, and for the same length 
of time. 

Your grandfather, John Tillson, was a kind- 
hearted, peaceable man, very industrious, a 
great worker indeed; he was a man of excel- 
lent common sense, and better educated than 
many of his neighbors; and with such surround- 
ings, and his old fashioned notions, I do not 
think there are many who would have done 
more for their children. 

In the year 1818, Dr. Shurtleff having pur- 
chased a farm in Chelsea, in order to settle 
his son Benjamin as a farmer, engaged your 
father to go and spend the summer at the farm, 
and the next winter he went into Boston to 
write for the doctor and to arrange business 
for going west the next spring. It was during 
this winter he attended a course of lectures on 
chemistry and geology, by Dr. Webster — who 
afterwards figured in so fearful a tragedy^ — 

2 Dr. John W. Webster was a professor in Harvard 
University and in the Boston Medical College. Being 
indebted to Dr. George Parkman of Boston, who 
threatened him with loss of his position and conse- 
quent ruin, Dr. Webster invited Parkman to call at his 
lecture room at the medical college on Nov. 23, 1849, 
and in the course of an altercation over the debt struck 

5 



a Woman'$ ^torp 



and he also improved other advantages which 
the city offered for education. 

Your father's inducement to go to IIHnois 
was in consequence of the interest at that time 
in soldiers' bounty lands. At the close of the 
War of 1 8 12 Congress awarded to each soldier 
who had served in the war a bounty of one 
hundred and sixty acres of land, lying between 
the Illinois and Mississippi rivers. Then sol- 
diers were not generally of the class to under- 
take the enterprise of going to a country so 
new; and though a few kept their parchments, 
and did go out to take possession of the soil, 
the majority sold their patents to land specu- 
lators in the eastern cities. Among the pur- 
chasers was Dr. B. Shurtleff of Boston, and 
your father was employed by him to attend to 
his business. When the soldiers sold their 
patent they also gave a deed, which was to be 
recorded in Illinois. The facilities for sending 
by mail, as might now be done, were so uncer- 
tain that it was deemed best to employ agents 
to go out and attend to the recording and 
locating, as the land also had to be surveyed, 

him a fatal blow on the head. Instead of confessing 
the affair, Webster sought to conceal it by dismem- 
bering and destroying the body in his laboratory. He 
was found guilty of murder, sentenced to death, and 
hanged August 30, 1850. Because of the standing of 
the principals in the tragedy and the circumstances 
under which it was carried out, it constitutes one of 
the most celebrated murder cases of American crim- 
inal history. 

6 



of pioneer ^fHinoi^ 



and laid off into townships, sections, and 
quarter-sections. Consequently many young 
men of ability, employed as surveyors, agents, 
and recorders, migrated to what was then 
termed the "Far West. " 

Others went from a desire to go to a new 
country and establish themselves as farmers 
while land was cheap, and as was a common 
saying with them "to grow up with the coun- 
try." Among those young emigrants were 
merchants, doctors, lawyers, farmers, school- 
masters, and many of them were our most cher- 
ished friends. I have now in my mind Augustus 
Collins, from Connecticut, who settled in what 
they first named Unionville, now Collinsville. 
He was one of your father's first and most 
intimate friends. Joel Wright, James Black, 
William Porter, Israel Seward, William H. 
Brown, Benjamin Mills, Samuel Lockwood, 
Robert Blackwell, William S. Hamilton, Ed- 
ward Coles, the Ross family, of Atlas — five 
brothers — H. H. Snow, John Wood, Orval 
Dewey, Hooper Warren, Dr. H. Newhall, who 
settled in Greenville, and was our physician; 
he now resides at Galena. The three Blanch- 
ards, Samuel, Seth and Elisha, also settled at 
Greenville. The Leggetts,, Breaths, Slocums 
and Aliens, who settled on Marine Prairie, 
Thomas Lippincott^ — I have mentioned these 

^Many of these men rose to prominence in Illinois 
or elsewhere. Augustus Collins was one of five 
brothers from Litchfield, Connecticut, who about the 



a l^oman'^ ^torp 



on account of their having been our acquain- 
tances and personal friends. There are many 
others that I like to keep in mind, and the 
recollection of our friendly intercourse is to 
me a source of enjoyment. 

The two families of Townsends — one from 

year 1817 laid out the town of Collinsville, Illinois. 
They conducted several business enterprises and for 
long were thriving Community builders. Joel Wright 
was the first sheriff of Montgomery County, serving 
from 182 1 to 1826. 

William H. Brown of New York and Samuel D. 
Lockwood of the same state came to lUinois together 
in 1818, descending the Ohio River on a flat boat. 
Brown soon became clerk of the U. S. District Court 
and lived at Vandalia, the new state capital, from 
1820 to 1835. He then located at Chicago as cashier 
of the Chicago branch of the State Bank of Illinois. 
He was a leader in the opposition to making Illinois 
a slave state, was school agent of Chicago from 1840 
to 1853, and in numerous other activities served his 
adopted city and state. Lockwood served in turn as 
attorney general of Illinois, secretary of state, and 
receiver of public moneys at Edwardsville. From 
1825 to 1848 he was a justice of the Supreme Court of 
Illinois, and from 185 1 until his death in 1874 state 
trustee of the Illinois Central Railroad. 

Benjamin Mills was a native of Massachusetts who 
migrated at an early day to the Illinois lead mines 
and soon acquired a reputation as a brilliant lawyer 
of Galena. Becoming consumptive, he returned to 
Massachusetts and there died in 1841. 

Robert Blackwell belonged to a family prominent 
in the annals of Illinois. In 1816 he was publishing 
the Kaskaskia Illinois Intelligencer, in partnership with 
Daniel P. Cook, after whom Cook County was later 
named. Mingling journalism with politics , Blackwell 
became Territorial Auditor of Illinois: the firm of 
8 



of pioneer ^flltnoi^ 



Palmyra, New York, and the other from New 
York City — were choice acquaintances. The 
latter were the parents of Mrs. Hinckley. Mr. 
Townsend had been a flour merchant in New 
York, where he had failed in business, became 
discouraged, and his brother, a wealthy mer- 
chant in New York, entered land for him in 

Blackwell and Berry were chosen state printers when 
Illinois became a state. This led Blackwell to make 
his future home at Vandalia. 

William S. Hamilton, son of the famous statesman, 
Alexander Hamilton, removed from New York to 
Springfield, Illinois, in early manhood. In 1827 he 
again removed to the lead mine region of south- 
ern Wisconsin, founded Wiota, and for twenty years 
was prominent in the affairs of Wisconsin and north- 
western Illinois. He joined the gold rush to Cali- 
fornia in 1849 and died at Sacramento, October 9, 
1850. 

Edward Coles, second governor of Illinois, was a 
Virginian of wealthy connections and a favorite of 
President Madison. In i8i9ColesremovedtoIllinois 
with his slaves, freeing them and providing each head 
of a family with 160 acres of land upon his arrival. 
Coles was the leading figure in the fight against 
making Illinois a slave state in the twenties, devoting 
to it his entire gubernatorial salary for several years. 
In the early thirties he removed to Philadelphia where 
he resided until his death in 1868. 

Atlas, now an insignificant hamlet in Pike County, 
was laid out by five Ross brothers in the early twen- 
ties. It was the county seat of Pike from 1824 to 1833, 
and for a time rivaled Quincy as one of the most im- 
portant points in western Illinois. 

Henry H. Snow was an early resident of Alton. 
He was one of the three male and five female charter 
members of the first Presbyterian church of Alton, 
founded in 182 1 . For John Wood, who became gov- 



91 Woman'^ ^torp 



Montgomery County, about two miles from 
Hillsboro. Here Mr. Townsend and family, 
after residing awhile at Bonhomme, Missouri, 
settled and were for many years our most 
intimate neighbors. Mrs. Townsend was a 
woman of uncommon energy, well educated, 
and fitted for more intellectual surroundings 

ernor of Illinois, see note 7, post. Hooper Warren, a 
native of New Hampshire, established the Edwards- 
ville Spectator in 1819, and made it the organ of the 
anti-slavery party in the struggle of the twenties. 
Warren founded the first paper at Springfield, and the 
third published at Chicago. In later years he retired 
to a farm at Henry, Illinois, and died in 1864. 

Dr. Horatio Newhall settled at Galena in 1827, 
and practiced medicine and journalism there for 
several years. From 1830 to 1832 he was a surgeon 
in the regular army, stationed at Fort Winnebago, 
Wisconsin. His later life was spent at Galena. 

Marine. Township, Madison County, is named from 
the early settlement there in 18 19 of a group of retired 
sea captains from New England and New York. 
Included in the number were George C. Allen and 
James Breath, while the location was chosen as the 
result of a preliminary investigating tour to the West 
undertaken in 1817 by Rowland P. Allen. 

Rev. Thomas Lippincott, pioneer Illinois clergy- 
man, was a native of New Jersey who came west to 
St. Louis in 1817. He soon crossed to the Illinois 
side of the Mississippi, and after several removals, in 
1825 bought the Edwardsville Spectator from Hooper 
Warren. Not long thereafter he entered the Presby- 
terian ministry and became an influential factor in 
the upbuilding of Presbyterianism in Illinois. Rev. 
Mr. Lippincott and wife are credited with organizing 
the first Sunday School in IlHnois, at their home at 
Milton in 1819. A son was auditor of the state from 
1869 to 1877. 



of pioneer 3^lIinot^ 



than her situation could give. Mr. Townsend 
had been a handsome New York gentleman, 
lacking her force of character, but refined in 
manners and kind in feeling, always gentle- 
manly except when the blues made him gruff 
and sullen. They had two children: Rosetta, 
who married Andrew Braley, and Julia, Mrs. 
Hinckley. Both Rosetta and Julia spent a 
great part of their time in our family, calling 
your father and myself papa and mamma, while 
Charles and John had a "Parter WilHe" and 
a ''Mubber Townsend," all feeling that they 
had two fathers and two mothers. 

Of the other Townsend family you will find 
a record in Dr. Lippincott's Log Cabin Days 
in the West. Both Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Town- 
send and their children, with Dr. Perrine and 
family, were our intimate friends. But to 
return to your father's start for the West: 

In 1 8 19 going to Illinois was more of an 
event than a trip now would be to the most re- 
mote part of the habitable globe. No railroads 
and steamboats to annihilate time and distance 
and the good people of Halifax were furnished 
with a new topic of conversation when it was 
known that John Tillson was going to Illinois, 
some approving, while others thought it a wild 
undertaking, and that he would find it so before 
he was half through his journey. He started 
from Boston, taking passage on a sailing vessel 
for Baltimore. His companions in travel were 
Moses Hallet and wife, Cape Coders. They 
II 



at l^oman'^ ^torp 



were married a few days previous to starting 
for the West, and the honeymoon was divided 
between the seasickness of the first and the 
landsickness of the latter part of their journey. 
Mr. Hallet, an honest and highminded Yan- 
kee, but good-natured and mischievous, amused 
us with the incidents of their travel when he 
visited your father in after years. I do not 
remember much of their trip across the moun- 
tains, there being then no National Road, but 
at Pittsburgh I think they took a flatboat to 
Shawneetown. 

Your father's first business on reaching 
Illinois, where he arrived in June, 1 8 19, was 
with the recorder of deeds at Edwardsville. 
I think he left his papers with Mr. Randall, 
the recorder, and went to Missouri on land 
business. When he returned, the office was so 
much crowded with previous business that noth- 
ing could be done for him, and Mr. Randall 
proposed that he should enter the office as 
clerk and write until his deeds were recorded, 
which offer he accepted. Mr. Randall had 
two other young men employed as clerks; one 
now the Hon. Hiram Rountree^ of Hillsboro, 
the other Joel Wright Esq., of Canton, Fulton 
County, Illinois. While they were together 

* Judge Hiram Rountree was born in North Caro- 
lina in 1794 and died in 1873. He came to Illinois in 
1817, having studied law at Bowling Green, Kentucky. 
In 182 1 he assisted in organizing Montgomery County, 
and for upwards of half a century was an official of 
the county and one of its most influential citizens. 

12 




■»V**f»S*'jJ ;~:v^^. -V r.-^^W.ll'^^*i'"t 



of pioneer ^fllinoi^ 



in the office during the winter of 1819-20, 
two or three young men called to see if Mr. 
Randall would buy their land. They were 
specimens of the many disappointed Yankees 
who had gone west, spent all their money for 
land, and had not the means of getting back 
to commence the world anew. The three 
clerks, from compassion for the poor fellows, 
each bought a quarter section of land, paid 
them, and sent them home to their mammas 
rejoicing. The land was situated in territory 
belonging either to Bond or Madison County, 
forty miles north of Edwardsville. 

Towards spring, having a little ease from 
business, they started in search of their new 
possessions, expecting to make the journey in 
a day, but getting lost on a large prairie were 
obliged to camp, and were several days in 
finding what afterwards became their home. 
Mr. Rountree and Mr. Wright found their 
land just as nature had made it. On your 
father's quarter section a squatter had made 
what was then termed "an improvement," 
said improvement consisting of a few acres 
enclosed by a rail fence, with a cabin and 
smoke-house in the center. The squatter, 
when what they called the "rale owner" 
made his appearance, expected to be paid well 
for all his "improvements," and woe for the 
Yankee who did not "pony up well" to the 
squatter. Your father had no trouble with 
his occupant. The lord of the soil was no less 

13 



at S^oman'jef ^torp 



a man than Commodore Yoakum, the best 
hunter, the life of the corn-shuckings, the best 
"corner man" at a log-cabin raising. His 
house was always open to neighbors and his 
friends — though a little like Madam Blaze's 
hand. 

At his meetings — Hard-shell Baptists — 
no one could raise their voice louder in the 
"hymes," Old Grimes being his favorite tune. 
After the "hymes" he would gird himself 
with a towel, and with a tin wash-basin of 
water go around and wash the feet of the 
brethren and sisters with a good grace, and 
with as much apparent zest as when he took 
good aim and brought down a number of 
prairie chickens at one shot. Being so clever 
and handy while he always maintained an air 
of command, the boys had honored him with 
the title of Commodore, which seemed to 
amuse and please him exceedingly. The 
Commodore was a large, black-eyed, black- 
bearded, dark-skinned Tennesseean. He had 
had a grand or great-grandfather who had 
been a large land-owner and slave-holder, and 
that circumstance, with the fact that the tract 
where his ancestors resided had been distin- 
guished and still bore the name of Yoakum 
Station, combining with his large development 
of esteem, rendered our Commodore, in his 
own estimation, second to no man. 

On returning to Edwardsville your father 
found quite a large commission of new busi- 
14 



of pioneer ^Fflinoiie^ 



ness from Boston and New York, which de- 
cided him about spending another year. He 
made the arrangement that his letters should 
be addressed at Edwardsville, having agreed 
with Mr. Randall that he should record his 
own deeds there, and when a package was com- 
pleted he would ride out to the farm and super- 
intend and work at "the improvement." 

In the autumn of 1820, in company with a 
surveyor, he went into Missouri, was taken 
with chills and fever, but succeeded in reach- 
ing his friend Hallet's house, where he was 
well nursed and cared for. The next winter, 
1820-21, he, with Israel Seward, Hiram 
Rountree, and Eleazer Townsend, went with 
a petition to the legislature, then in session, 
asking that a new county (Montgomery) be 
formed north of Fayette and Bond, their lands 
being within the new county.^ Their petition 
was granted, and in the spring Mr. Seward 
received the appointment of probate judge; 
Mr. Rountree was appointed county clerk, 
Mr. Wright, sheriff, and your father was made 

^Montgomery County was erected by act of the 
legislature early in 1821. After some bickering the 
present site of Hillsboro was selected for the county 
seat in 1823. The land thus chosen was not then 
entered. The story is told that aftersome delay the 
county-seat commissioners heard of a man named 
Coffey living at some distance who had fifty dollars 
in money. They thereupon sent for him and induced 
him to enter the land. Coffey did so, donated twenty 
acres for public buildings, and proceeded to lay out 
the town of Hillsboro on the remainder of the tract 

15 



^ W(^ytian'^ J^torp 



postmaster of the county, but there being no 
mail route estabHshed within twenty miles of 
their county seat, the expense of the mail for 
that distance devolved on the postmaster. 
This your father turned into a convenience, and 
there being no regular place of worship in his 
own neighborhood he would ride down to 
Greenville on Saturday afternoon and return 
on Monday with the county mail in his pocket; 
sometimes in his hat. At that time his busi- 
ness was almost entirely done through corres- 
pondence, and as every letter from New York 
or Boston called for a postage of twenty-five 
cents, and his business was still increasing, the 
franking privilege was to him a great considr 
eration. 

He found at Greenville the Massachusetts 
family of Blanchards, Birge, the postmaster, 
a Vermonter, Dr. Newhall, a native of Lynn, 
Mass., a graduate of Harvard and a classmate 
of Uncle Charles Briggs; also Benjamin Mills, a 
lawyer of note, who, with Dr. Newhall, after- 
wards removed to Galena, and Dr. Perrine, 
who married Ann, a daughter of the Rev. Jesse 
Townsend, altogether forming a very pleasant 
circle. 

The good people of Greenville, wishing to 
improve their music, had started a singing 
class. They requested your father to meet 
with them every Saturday night, when he 
came down for the mail, and also to become 
leader of the choir, which he did. Being thus 
i6 



of pioneer 3^Ilinoi^ 



established as singing master, farmer, land 
agent, county treasurer and postmaster, his 
ties seemed strengthening in Illinois, and he 
changed his address from Edwardsville to 
what was then Hamilton, afterwards Hillsboro, 
and took possession of his cabin. Here he, 
with Wright and Rountree, kept "Bachelor's 
Hall, "a small commencement at first, but a 
nucleus for all the sick, the homesick, newly 
arrived, and errant bachelors generally. All 
sought and took shelter at "Bachelor's Hall." 
Among the arrivals that winter were Milton 
Shurtleff from Carver, and William Porter 
from Middleboro. Porter was a handsome, 
well educated young man, of a character quite 
the reverse of Shurtleff. Alas ! for poor Por- 
ter; I will speak of him hereafter. Mr. John 
Simpson, a young gentleman from Boston, 
made them a visit, and entered into all their 
labors and enjoyments. On leaving he handed 
your father a note without any remark. On 
opening he found it contained a list of articles 
that Simpson had brought out for his own con- 
venience. Each article had the price attached 
to it, and enclosed in the note was a very 
valuable gold chain, with the price marked. 
Your father looked over the note and enclosed 
the amount of money set on the whole, and 
putting the gold chain with the cash, handed 
it back to him. The thing was so delicately 
done that I have always remembered it, and I 
found two years afterward, when I went west, 
17 



31 ^oman'^ ^totp 



great convenience in some of the articles Mr. 
Simpson had left. The cot bedstead and nar- 
row mattress was just what I needed for my little 
Dutch girl. A very nice bottle-case with cut- 
glass bottles and tumblers, and a few books 
I appreciated. The nicest thing was a most 
complete gentleman's dressing-case, which, 
strange to say, had survived the two years' 
deprivation of all the bachelors who honored 
the cabin by making themselves at home. Mr. 
Simpson and your father remained friends as 
long as Mr. Simpson lived. It seems strange 
that those who went west at that time, however 
discouraging their efforts might have been, 
when they returned to the East cherished a 
lingering desire for another attempt, and it 
was very common for them to return for a 
second experience. Such was the tragic story 
of Mr. Simpson. 

Sometime in 1 82 1 your father went on an 
exploring trip, his object being to survey and 
report to non-residents the condition of their 
lands lying between the Mississippi and Illinois 
Rivers; he took with him a hunter and two 
other men. They were out three weeks, and 
only two or three times did it fall to their lot 
to find a shelter for the night other than the 
lone forest or the broad prairie. They would 
generally find some spring or water course, 
where they would build their fire. The hunter, 
who acted as caterer and cook, would cut slices 
from the game that he had secured through 
18 



of pioneer ^FHxnoi^ 



the day, cooking them on sharp sticks before 
the fire, one end being driven in the ground, 
would soon treat them to a palatable meal, and 
when their repast was ended they would enjoy 
a sound sleep, finding their saddles when con- 
verted into pillows as useful as the famous 
chest of drawers, which also was a bed at 
night. As the red brethren have a liking for 
good horses, and the prairie wolves a keen 
scent for a good lunch, I believe they found it 
necessary to keep a kind of gander watch, one 
standing sentinel while the others slept. 

They crossed the Illinois near the mouth. 
At that time, I think, there was but one county 
on the military tract and what now constitutes 
Calhoun and Pike was all one county, under 
the name of Pike.® John Shaw, one of the 
first settlers, and a great politician and fond 
of rule, made himself conspicuous in Pike at 
that time. He was a large, dark-complexioned 
man, with a power to lead, and to gather about 
him warm friends, while his peculiarities were 
such as to insure for him an equal amount of 
antagonism. He — by those not in subjection 
to him — was known as "The Black Prince of 
the Kingdom of Pike." Your father partook 
of the hospitality of his bachelor cabin, which 

^Pike County was organized in 182 1, being one of 
the first counties erected after the admission of Illi- 
nois to statehood. Its original boundaries included 
all of Illinois north and west of the Illinois and its 
affluent, the Kankakee. 



19 



^ ?^oman'^ ^torp 



was returned in full after we were house- 
keepers, as we chanced to be on his road to 
the seat of government. He had been elected 
from his * 'Kingdom of Pike" to the legislature, 
where he was always known as a troublesome 
member. 

The course of the exploring party from Pike 
was northward, following the course of the 
Mississippi. Before reaching what is now 
Quincy, they passed a night with two bachelors 
from northern New York. In his journal he 
noted that these two young men would prob- 
ably become permanent settlers, and had the 
requisites of character to become good citizens, 
a settlement having such a nucleus being, to 
his mind, an important item in estimating the 
value of the adjacent lands. What sagacity 
was manifested in that conclusion will be left 
to those who for more than forty years have 
known Governor John Wood and Willard 
Keyes Esq., of Quincy, the young New Yorkers 
of log-cabin remembrance. 

Mr. Wood and your father arrived in Illinois 
about the same time, Mr. Wood going north, 
your father remaining at Edwardsville, though 
they had not known of each other before the 
meeting at the cabin. Mr. Keyes went out 
about the same time, but I think was a school- 
master somewhere near the Wabash River 
previous to joining Mr. Wood.'^ 

^ John Wood was a New Yorker who came to Illi- 
nois in early manhood in 1819. In March, 1820, in 

20 



of pioneer S^llinoijef 



Towards the end of their exploration they 
happened upon the premises of Ossian M. 
Ross, who, with a sturdy wife, had just settled 
himself at what is now Lewistown, Fulton 
County.^ The travelers arrived there in a 

company with Willard Keyes, he located a farm in 
Pike County about thirty-five miles southeast of 
Quincy. In 182 1 he visited the site of Quincy and 
soon thereafter purchased a quarter section of land 
and erected the first building where the city now 
stands. Until his death in 1880, aside from temporary 
absences, Quincy remained the home of Governor. 
Wood. During this period of almost sixty years he 
held numerous offices, local and state, the best known 
of these, perhaps, being the governorship of Illinois. 
His residence, a beautiful colonial mansion erected 
in 1835, is now the home of the Quincy Historical 
Society. 

Willard Keyes was born on a Vermont farm in 
1792. In 1817 he came west to Prairie du Chien in 
the party of Rev. Samuel Peters, who was seeking to 
secure confirmation to himself of the noted grant of 
Wisconsin land made to Jonathan Carver, the ex- 
plorer, in 1767. Peters returned to the East in the 
spring of 1818, but Keyes remained at Prairie du 
Chien, conducting one of the first schools in Wiscon- 
sin. In the spring of 1819 he journeyed on a raft 
down river to Clarksville, Mo., where he lay sick for 
six months. Not long after this he entered the farm- 
ing parnership with Governor Wood already noted. 
In the spring of 1824 he followed Wood to Quincy, 
and built the second house there. Until his death in 
1872 he remained one of the leading citizens of the 
place. Mr. Keyes prospered financially, and with the 
proceeds of a bequest made by him Willard Hall 
was built by the Chicago Theological Seminary. 

* Ossian M. Ross was a New Yorker who served 
in the War of 1812 and thereby acquired title to land 
21 



a S^oman'^ ^torp 



most hungry condition; their stock of crackers 
being spent they had lived on meat and water 
for a day or two. Ross received them very 
graciously, and the good wife set herself about 
preparing a meal for the hungry guests, which 
was supplied with abundance, and apparent 
good nature, though looking terribly aghast at 
the havoc made on her stores of honey, bacon, 
and corn-dodgers. I wonder if it then ever 
crossed her mind that one of her barefooted, 
smooth-faced hopefuls would ever figure as a 
representative in Congress, at Washington. 

While on this survey, he encountered sev- 
eral other explorists, and it was amusing to 
hear of the raptures of some of them. One 
old gentleman — a good Methodist — followed 
the course of the Mississippi, and the farther 
north he advanced the more enthusiastic he 
became in admiration of the country, and 
when he arrived at the point where Quincy 
now is, and clambered to the top of the high 
mound that overlooked the noble river, his 
raptures knew no bounds, and throwing up 
his arms he exclaimed: "Glory, glory, glory ! 

in the Military Tract. He settled on it in 182 1, and 
the town of Lewiston, named in honor of his son, 
Lewis Ross, was soon after laid out on a portion of it. 
Fulton County was organized in 1823, and Lewiston 
was made the county seat. Until 1829 Ross was the 
leading citizen of the new settlement. In that year 
he moved to Havana, becoming the first permanent 
settler of Mason County. Here he passed the re- 
mainder of his life. 

22 



of pioneer S^Ilinoi^ 



I'm on the Mount! the Mount! I'm on the 
Mount of Glory ! " How would his righteous 
soul be vexed could he witness the demolition 
of his Mount Pisgah, through which is made 
the deep cut called Main Street? A young 
blade from New York or Philadelphia, after 
visiting the "Bounty Tract," and crossing the 
Illinois River at Peoria Lake, went into ec- 
stasies in describing the beauties of the 
scenery, and found, to his own surprise, that 
he was a poet, and declared that he could not 
leave without giving utterance to his feelings, 
not only because he had enjoyed so much, but 
that the sublimity should raise him to poetic 
transports, as an evidence of which he sent 
the following to his bachelor friends: 

" I am all in my glory when I think of Peoria, 
That gentle and beautiful lake, 
Where the goose and the swan do the waters 
adorn, 
There pleasure I mean for to take. 

With a wife by my side down the waters I'll 
glide 
With a love that shall banish all fear; 
And then we will roam to our cabin, our 
home, 
Nor dream that an Indian is near." 

I have forgotten the rest. 

Towards the spring of 1 82 1 Shurtleff, who 
had been a few months in the country, having 
fully decided to take to himself a wife, in- 
formed your father of the fact. He said he 
had had his pick of all the native girls, and had 
23 



a ^oman^^ ^torp 



decided on the "Squire's daughter, Polly." 
He had popped the question, secured his 
bird, but how about a cage ? Would your 
father let him bring his bride to the cabin 
and she become housekeeper, and be their 
boarder? Your father was willing, so Shurtleff 
went to St. Louis, bought Polly a silk dress 
and a straw bonnet and they were married, 
and became host and hostess of the establish- 
ment. The bonnet and dress had a magic 
influence on the mind of pretty Polly, as she 
had never before worn anything that had not 
been woven by her good mother, spun from 
the cotton raised in their "patch," (garden), 
and colored by indigo weed of their own 
growing. The dress and bonnet were also a 
subject of deep interest in the settlement. 
Those who did not see her wear them "to 
preaching," could yet have the benefit of call- 
ing at the cabin. Some thought Polly "too 
much set up," but on the whole it was agreed 
that she bore her honors meekly. 

Poor Polly. In speaking of Polly I omitted 
to say that she was a daughter of Esquire 
Kilpatrick, familiarly called "Squire Davy," 
and as they were our nearest, and indeed our 
most reliable neighbors among the "white 
folks," we were brought into closer acquaint- 
ance than with any others. Perhaps I should 
explain that "white folks" was a name given 
in derision to the first emigrants from the west- 
ern and southern states. An old Tennessee 
24 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



woman who had a terrific opinion of the 
Yankees, said: "I am getting skeery about them 
'ere Yankees; there is such a power of them 
coming in that they and the Injuns will squatch 
out all the white folks." Nothing afterward 
would exasperate them more than to have a 
Yankee call them white folks. 

When your father first went to look after 
his farm he wanted a boarding place, and 
"Squire Davy's" was recommended. He 
and Wright accordingly took board there un- 
til their cabin was built, and Commodore 
Yoakum had removed, thereby leaving his 
cabin for their stable. The 'Squire had, I be- 
lieve, been a schoolmaster in Barrens, Ken- 
tucky, the place from which they came. His 
wife was naturally smart and industrious, the 
latter qualification minus in ** Squire Davy." 
She could read, and entered into all the political 
interests that came to her knowledge; kept 
herself and family clean and comfortably clad. 
She, with her daughters, Peggy and Polly, 
had mauled rails enough to fence a "truck 
patch," and a cotton and indigo patch. Here 
every year she planted her cotton, indigo, 
cabbage, potatoes, and whatever else the wants 
and appetites of her family called for. The 
whole family were clothed in the winter in 
linsey and cotton, all of their own manufac- 
ture. During the summer a skirt with a waist 
of copperas and blue plaid homespun, with a 
necessary undergarment, constituted the dress 
25 



31 Ig^oman'^ ^totp 



of the female portion of the family, with the 
exception of Mrs. Kilpatrick, who very wisely 
covered her neck with a kerchief made of the 
same material as their dresses. She was a 
short, broad, square-built woman, and the 
kerchief, a yard square, was none too ample 
to protect her well developed proportions. 

I have been thus particular in my descrip- 
tion that you may, in imagination, look at two 
handsome young gentlemen seated at the table 
with the 'Squire and lady, Peggy and Polly. 
Six was the number usually at log cabin tables, 
for the reason that six plates, one platter, six 
knives and forks, six tin cups — or, possibly 
among the more aristocratic, six cups and 
saucers — constituted the table outfit. On a 
little bench in the corner of the cabin stood 
the water bucket, with a gourd, for drinking. 
It was the custom for each one, after being 
satisfied with the solids at the table, to walk 
to the bucket and take their last course from 
the gourd. Then, while the younger scions 
were scrambling for what remained on the 
table, the older members of the family — both 
male and female — would seat themselves 
comfortably around the fire with each a pipe, 
showing their own inventive genius. Several 
varieties might be seen on such occasions, but 
the most common was a piece of corn-cob dug 
out for the bowl of the pipe, with an alder 
quill inserted for the stem. 

Two such young men as our young bachelors 

2() 



of pioneer S^HinoiiEf 



coming into the settlement, buying land, and 
actually going to work on their farms, created 
quite a sensation, and some looked with an evil 
eye on the 'Squire for taking the two Yankees 
into his family; some had always thought that 
"Old Davy was little better than a Yankee, 
anyhow." Some thought his wife had an eye 
for the future of her daughters; that Polly 
might do for Tillson, but as for Peggy it was 
decided she was too ugly even for a Yankee, 
although they were sure Mrs. Kilpatrick was 
for "hitching her to Wright." Jesse Buzan 
and Milton Shurtleff arriving settled that ques- 
tion, but the neighbors thought Davy and wife 
were "awful spited" — disappointed — at not 
getting Wright and Tillson. 

Those who now go to the Far West can look 
forward to a rapid improvement, and with the 
facilities for traveling do not feel that where 
they have set themselves down is the place they 
must stay, or leave at a great sacrifice, and 
they can have but little idea of the discourage- 
ments the young adventurers of that country 
must have encountered. Nothing but a most 
indomitable perseverance could have caused 
them to remain, and I have felt like attributing 
to them a higher commendation than has yet 
been accorded to such. The new arrangement 
and change from bachelor housekeeping did 
not prove pleasant. Mine host showed his 
cloven foot in various ways. He quarreled 
with his wife's relations, and Mrs. Kilpatrick, 

27 



91 I^Dman^^ ^totp 



after an encounter with her son-in-law, would 
report it to your father. While with them 
your father had a shake of the ague; knowing 
he had Aothing to hope for there, in case of sick- 
ness, and feeling pretty sure, as the natives 
termed it, that he was "in for a smart grip of 
agy," he started at night and rode to Rev. Mr. 
Townsend's, seven miles towards Edwardsville, 
where he stayed to have another shake. The 
next' being the intermediate day, he rode to 
Mr. Hoxie's, twenty-five miles farther, and 
waited over there for another shake, which 
Mrs. Hoxie said ''beat all the shakes she ever 
saw; he shuck the hull cabin." The next day 
he went to Edwardsville, where he was kindly 
nursed and cared for by Mrs. Randall, the good 
old Methodist lady he had boarded with, and 
mother to Mr. Randall, the recorder. When 
he thought himself well enough he went over 
to Missouri, but the fatigue' of the journey 
brought on a relapse. He was fortunate, how- 
ever, in reaching his friend Hallet's. 

In the spring of 1822 he rented his cabin to 
Mr. Rountree. Shurtleff, having entered land 
adjoining his farm, put up a cabin, where with 
his Polly he commenced — as he termed it — 
"on his own hook." Mr. Rountree was also 
putting up a cabin on his own land. Joel 
Wright built the same year on his quarter sec- 
tion, so there was quite a log-cabin neighbor- 
hood within a mile square. The cabins could 
be seen from each other in the winter, but in 
28 



of pioneer ^fllinoi^ 



the summer the thick foHage and the high 
corn-fields shut out all intrusion from prying 
neighbors, and equally all sense of human com- 
panionship, making at times the truth of Alex- 
ander Selkirk's lines, '*I am monarch of all I 
survey," &c., more forcible than poetic. 

In April your father and Mr. Augustus CoUins 
started together on horseback, one for Con- 
necticut, the other for Massachusetts, both on 
the same errand. Mr. Collins married a Miss 
Sanders — she is now the wife of Dr. Gillett, 
of Jacksonville, Illinois. It was the plan that 
we should all return in company to Illinois, 
but your father being detained by business we 
did not start until a week later, and it became 
one of the occupations of our journey to study 
the hetel registers, looking for the record of 
their family. Besides Augustus Collins and 
wife, were his father and mother, his sisters. 
Miss Eliza, Miss Almira (since Mrs. Giddings), 
and Maria, the youngest, a beautiful and 
accomplished young lady, who died not long 
after their arrival; four brothers, Anson, 
Michael, William, and Frederic, the last the 
only surviving one. 

After reaching Illinois we kept up as much 
of an acquaintance as the distance of our loca- 
tion would admit, your father and Mr. Collins 
always retaining their kind feeling toward each 
other, and the friendship commencing so early 
has always been cherished by me, and I have 
ever felt a warm attachment for that family, 
29 



^ Wt^man'^ J^torp 



and have regretted that I did not more fre- 
quently see Mrs. Giddings after her coming to 
Quincy. It was in the summer of 1825 that 
we made our first visit to the Collins family. 
We met there Mr. Giddings, who, as I after- 
wards found, was looking among the eastern 
ladies for a better half, and the result was his 
marriage the next year to Miss Almira Collins. 
I did not again see Mrs. Giddings until after 
the birth of Frederic, in the autumn of 1 827 . At 
that time Augustus Colhns, with his brother 
Anson, had commenced business in St. Louis, 
leaving his father and mother in Unionville 
(now Collinsville). William Collins had mar- 
ried, and occupied the old mansion, and with 
his brothers was engaged in the flour business, 
and running a distillery. The latter, though a 
business of much profit, they gave up for con- 
science sake. When the Collins family, father 
and sons, decided to give up distilling, the old 
lady would not consent to have the still sold, 
but had it bruised and so demolished that it 
could only be sold for old copper. She said 
"no more sin and misery should come from 
that still." 



30 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



OUR JOURNEY 

In 1822 it was still a great event to under- 
take a journey to Illinois, and many were the 
direful remarks and conclusions about my going. 
Your grandmother dreaded my starting without 
any lady companion, and was much relieved to 
find that a Mrs. Cushman, a widow lady, whose 
husband had been a lawyer in Halifax, and who 
had but one child — a son, settled near Cincin- 
nati — was waiting an opportunity to go and 
end her days with her beloved Joshua, and that 
your father had offered her a seat in our carriage, 
which offer had been accepted. Your uncle 
Robert was also to go. The carriage had 
been built at Bedford, Massachusetts, under 
your father's directions, expressly for the jour- 
ney. Your Great-grandmother Briggs had 
seen the carriage pass her house, and in tell- 
ing how she felt at parting with her eldest 
granddaughter, and the sadness it had given 
her to see the carriage that was to take me 
away, was not aware that she said "hearse" 
instead of carriage. It amused those who 
heard it, but they had too much reverence for 
her feehngs to tell her of the mistake. 

How hard it is to shake off the sadness of 
our young days. Partings, the breaking up of 
families and home attachments, have always 
been to me particularly painful, and the sad 
forebodings I was constantly hearing at that 
time of the fearful journey, and the dismal 
31 



^ ^oman^^ J^totp 



backwoods life which awaited me were not 
calculated to dispel the clouds that would 
sometimes come over me. I did not know 
then, as I realize now, that I was more ready 
to be influenced by fears than by hopes. My 
timidity through life has been my infirmity, 
want of self-confidence and a shrinking from 
notoriety marked my early life; and it is only 
from a sense of duty to myself and children 
that I have, in a measure, overcome the folly 
that has kept me back from many good per- 
formances. 

I did not intend to enter into an investigation 
of my own particular temper and disposition, 
but found myself — before I was aware of it — 
doling out my shortcomings. It has been my 
misfortune to dwell on my own weakness. 



We left my father's house at Kingston, 
October 6, 1822.^ Our carriage being some- 

^Mrs. Tillson's narrative of her journey from Mas- 
sachusetts to Illinois may profitably be compared 
with O. M. Spencer's account of a similar journey 
taken by his parents a third of a century earlier, 
pubhshed in the volume of the Lakeside Classics 
series for 19 17 {The Indian Capti'vity of O. M. Spencer 
3-12). The Spencers journeyed by the Forbes Road, 
later known as the Pennsylvania Road, across Penn- 
sylvania to a tributary of the Ohio, traveling thence 
by waterto Cincinnati. TheTillsons, setting out from 
Plymouth County, Massachusetts, followed m general 
the shore line to New York city. From here they 
crossed New Jersey to Philadelphia and thence made 

32 



of pioneer ^FHinoi^ 



what such a vehicle as we would now call a 
two seated buggy, at that time the name buggy 
was not known. The seats were so made that 
a trunk could be fitted under each one of them, 
and there was room in front for a bonnet trunk 
that held my leghorn bonnet, and a portman- 
teau containing the gentlemen's change of 
clothing. Mrs. Cushman's trunk rode behind, 
and with a little bamboo basket containing my 
night clothes, brushes, &c., and a lunch basket, 
we found ourselves pretty closely packed. 

their way southwesterly to Cumberland, Maryland, 
which was the eastern terminus of the great National 
Road. Construction of this had been begun in 1811, 
and by 1818 had been carried to Wheeling on the Ohio 
at an averagecostper mile of ^13,000. In later years 
the National Road was carried westward across cen- 
tral Ohio and Indiana, with St. Louis as its ultimate 
goal. The latter point was never reached, however, 
the development of other routes and methods of trans- 
portation causing the discontinuance of the project. 
Over this great highway poured a flood of traffic, both 
passenger and freight, and the National Road was one 
of the important agencies in the development of the 
West. From Wheeling the Tillsons followed Zane's 
Trace through Zanesville and Lancaster to Chilli- 
cothe. As far as Zanesville this was later the route of 
the National Road when in 1825 construction westward 
from Wheeling was begun. The National Road con- 
tinued due westward to Columbus and Indianapolis, 
while Zane's Trace turned southwestwardly to Mays- 
ville on the Ohio, whence the highway continued to 
Lexington in Kentucky. At some point between 
Chillicothe and Maysville the Tillsons turned west- 
ward to Williamsburg (in eastern Clermont County) 
and thence to Cincinnati. 

33 



91 l^oman'^ ^torp 



We were to travel at about the rate of one 
hundred miles in three days, and St. Paul-like, 
commenced our journey coast-wise. We passed 
through Providence, stopping to dine with Seth 
Allen, who had formerly been a neighbor of 
your Grandfather Tillson's. I speak of this 
because theirs were the last faces I saw of 
those I had known before, and not until four 
years after, when your Uncle Charles arrived 
in Illinois, did I see any face that I had before 
looked upon after leaving the Aliens' on my 
second day from home. Our course carried 
us along the southern, the shore line of Con- 
necticut, passing through New Haven. We 
arrived at New York in eight days. It being 
my first visit, I was much disappointed to find 
the city almost depopulated by the yellow 
fever. 1^ We knew before starting that the 
fever was prevailing to some extent; but as in- 
telligence did not then, as now, go with light- 
ning speed, and we had been so long on the 
way, the extent of the sickness was not known 
to us. We rode into New York in the morning, 
but it had a very desolate appearance. The 
inhabitants had closed their places of business, 

^0 William Newnham Blane, a portion of whose 
Excursion through the United States and Canada during 
the Years 1822-1823 was reprinted in Pictures of Illi- 
nois One Hundred Years Ago, the preceding volume in 
the Lakeside Classics, was in New York at the same 
time as Mrs. Tillson, and in his book of travels gives 
a vivid picture of the conditions there during the yel- 
low fever epidemic. 

34 



of pioneer S^Hinoi^ 



and the merchants had removed their goods 
out of what was then termed the city. The 
place where Union Square now is, was country, 
and those who were wilHng to risk the chances 
of yellow fever so near them had erected shan- 
ties and were displaying their goods. There 
was a large brick building where an Irishman 
kept a decent tavern. They were holding a 
pohtical caucus the night we stopped there. 

At Philadelphia we stayed a day, putting up 
at a Quaker boarding house. We went out and 
bought a white merino shawl and some winter 
trimmings for my large leghorn bonnet. We 
did not then change as often as now, having a 
winter, spring, summer, and fall bonnet. Those 
who had a nice leghorn, as was mine, changed 
the trimmings with the season. Those who 
could afford it wore ostrich feathers in the 
winter, while in the summer flowers were sub- 
stituted. Feathers at that time were thought 
to be in bad taste for summer wear. I enjoyed 
my day in Philadelphia; also my whole journey 
through New Jersey and Pennsylvania. The 
country was very different from anything I had 
seen. Having been brought up on the sandy 
soil of the old Colony, among the pine woods, 
where every farmer is a poor man, and those 
who have farms and are rich have made them- 
selves so by manufacture or commerce, it 
seemed strange to see the big Dutch barns, 
which in the distance we continually mistook 
for churches. The inhabitants also interested 
35 



a ^oman'^ ^torp 



me. We stopped every night, and between 
Philadelphia and Lancaster found ourselves in 
houses where they could not speak a word of 
English, and our pantomime performances 
were sometimes very amusing. I can now 
recall some things which occurred while your 
father and I were trying to come to some 
understanding with the host and hostess. I 
can now see your Uncle Robert in his mulberry 
suit, both arms hanging straight from his 
shoulders, not speaking or moving himself, but 
good-naturedly watching the movements of the 
rest. 

Arrived at Wheeling we stopped for break- 
fast, and then in a ferry boat crossed the Ohio, 
where I was somewhat disappointed. The riv- 
er was very low at that time, and its narrow 
stream between two sandy shores I looked on 
with other eyes and other emotions than I had in 
store for the * * beautiful Ohio. ' ' From Wheel- 
ing we went across the country to Williams- 
burgh, a town twenty miles from Cincinnati, 
where we were to leave Mrs. Cushman with 
her son. I should like to describe Mrs. Cush- 
man, but now feel like plodding my way 
through Ohio. After crossing the Ohio River, 
a new scene opened to me, and my initiation 
to a new country began. From Cumberland, 
Pennsylvania, to Wheeling, we had traveled on 
the National Road, but it extended no farther, 
and after that we were left to make our way as 
best we could over such roads as Ohio at that 
36 



of pioneer S^Hmoi^ 



time could offer. When we were wading 
through swampy, boggy bottom lands we hailed 
a corduroy with joy, not that corduroys were our 
particular fancy, but anything for a variety; 
and when the jostling, jolting, up and down 
process became unbearable, a change to a mud 
hole was quite soothing. ^^ We were not all the 
time, however, in so sad an extremity. We 
sometimes for hours would ride through high 
and dry woodlands where there had been roads 
surveyed and the under-growth cleared out the 
width of a carriage road, and every few rods 
we would find what they termed a blaze, which 
was a tree with the bark hacked off, and these 
served as guide boards. 

At Zanesville we found the first comfortable 
stopping place after leaving Wheeling. We 
went from there to Chillicothe, where we found 
a good house. This place always recalls Mrs. 
Cushman. She found in the morning that in 
passing to her bedroom the night before she 
had come in contact with fresh p^int, and had 
marred the appearance of her nice blue cloth 
traveling suit. She went to the painter, showed 

^* A corduroy road was made over wet or swampy 
places by the simple process of throwing down logs 
at right angles to the line of travel to constitute a 
roadbed. Of course the logs would be of varying 
dimensions and would sink varying distances into the 
mud or swamp, or at times become displaced alto- 
gether, thus affording to those who traveled over 
them in wheeled vehicles an ever constant element 
of change and surprise. 

37 



ai Ig^oman'^ <^torp 



him her garment, and asked for some spirits of 
turpentine. The painter looked indifferent, 
and told her he had no turpentine, whereupon 
she grew earnest, and asked him what kind of 
a painter he could be, not to have spirits of 
turpentine, to which he gave her some rather 
waggish answer. She then drew his attention 
to the intrinsic worth of the garment, by tell- 
ing him she paid so many dollars per yard in 
Boston, where she had had it made just before 
starting on her journey. Nothing moved by 
her sorrows, he kept at his work, being very 
respectful, though looking wonderfully amused. 
Mrs. Cushman, finding she could accomplish 
nothing with the painter, resorted to mine host, 
who, with his wife, two or three greasy girls 
from the kitchen, and all the younglings of the 
family, were open-mouthed, hstening to her 
sad story. A happy thought at last moved some 
brain of the group to go to the druggist's and 
obtain the desired remedy, which, after much 
ado and hard rubbing, finally produced the 
erasive effect desired, so that our friend went 
on her journey as well satisfied as if nothing 
had happened. 

Mrs. Cushman was not a fault-finding wom- 
an, and with a few outbreaks like the one 
named excepted, made a pleasant companion, 
and accommodated herself to the inconven- 
iences of such a journey better than most people 
would have done. She was a fine looking 
woman, always neat and well dressed, and had 
38 



of pioneer ^fllinoi^ 



in her young days been called a beauty; was a 
sister of Thomas Hubbard of Hanson, the rich 
man of the town; had married Jotham Cushman 
of Halifax, an educated and handsome man, 
brother to Joshua Cushman of Maine. After 
her husband's death her house was given up 
and she left minus house, home, and every 
means of support, and entirely dependent on 
her brother's bounty. Her only son, Joshua, 
had gone to Ohio to seek his fortune; had 
married, and his wife had died, leaving one 
child. Her desire to be with her son and to 
take charge of his little daughter made her pre- 
fer the uncertainty of a new western home to 
the comfortable provision her brother had ex- 
tended to her in his own family. 

On inquiring for Williamsburgh, after leav- 
ing Chillicothe, we could find no one who knew 
of such a place. At last a shrewd backwoods- 
man where we spent the night told us it was 
only a "stake town." It had been staked out 
but they had not made any "improvements" 
yet; he reckoned they might get up some 
cabins in the spring. Did not know any man 
by the name of Cushman. There were a few 
families settled in the timber, near where the 
town was staked off; shouldn't wonder if the 
man might be there; seems like he had heard 
the name. Poor Mrs. Cushman ! I hardly dared 
look at her. How could she bear the change.? 
I felt sad, sad indeed. Not so with Mrs. 
Cushman; the thought of being so near her 
39 



31 ^oman'^ ^Storp 



only child seemed to exclude every other feel- 
ing. The weariness from her long journey, 
the racking from the corduroy roads; and even 
the few remaining spots of white lead that had 
clung to her blue skirt, were all forgotten in 
the thought that in a few hours she might 
meet her Joshua. Such is a mother's love. 
A father may love his children dearly, tenderly, 
a husband a wife, a wife a husband, a brother 
a sister, a sister a brother, but none of those 
can comprehend a mother's love. 

It was Saturday, about noon, when we 
arrived at the house of Mr. Jernegan; the 
Buckeyes called him "Johnnygins. " The 
family were from Nantucket. A sea-faring 
man had been Mr. Jernegan. He had moved 
to Ohio, and a pretty daughter of his had 
married Mr. Joshua Cushman, a handsome 
young Yankee. We found Mr. Cushman and 
child — a sweet little girl, about three years 
old — at Mr. Jernegan's. The family were liv- 
ing in a small brick building that had been put 
up with the intention of putting a large front to 
what they designed for a kitchen, but at the 
time of our visit it served for kitchen, dining- 
room, and parlor, and two little bedrooms 
partitioned from the kitchen completed the 
mansion. Mrs. Jernegan, a plain, sensible, 
modest woman, who, with her daughter, did 
the work of the family, received Mrs. Cushman 
politely, but seeing her looking at the stately 
appearance of Mrs. Cushman, and then at her 
40 



of ^^ionect S^llinoi^ 



own accomodations — her little bedrooms and 
plain kitchen arrangements — I could see and 
understand the "Oh, dear! what I am to do?" 
although unuttered. We were, however, re- 
lieved when Joshua pointed out a small brick 
building which he said he could make ready 
and go to housekeeping in a short time. We 
made the best possibly time after leaving Mrs. 
Cushman on Saturday, for Cincinnati, where 
we arrived Sunday morning in time for church, 
but in no plight for church-going. We stopped 
at a house kept by a Mr. Fox. 

I forgot to mention a night we spent between 
Wheeling and Cincinnati with a Bostonian. 
We were told through the day, when, as was 
our custom, we inquired for a stopping-place 
for the next night, that there was no tavern on 
the road, but that by turning a little off the 
**big road," we would find "a Yankee man 
that had settled in, and had made a clearing, 
and sometimes kept public." We reached the 
cabin about sunset and found a little man who, 
with his big wife, decided that we could stay. 
The little man seemed to be a Massachusetts 
Yankee, out-and-out, but his bigger half I 
could not understand her. She did not seem 
to work, or to know how; did not look too 
good to work, or to know enough to be a lady. 
Another woman seemed to be housekeeper and 
cook. The little man had a neighbor with him 
helping him to kill sheep. We made no pro- 
test against the slaughter, for one of the most 
41 



a ^oman'^ ^Storp 



urgent demands of our nature was in full 
force, we having eaten nothing since breakfast, 
and the savory odors made us almost rebel- 
lious at the tardiness of the cook, but the whiskey 
bottle with which our host and his neighbor 
were exhilarating themselves did not suit me. 
They prepared a mug of whiskey toddy for Mrs. 
Cushman and myself, but both said "No; 
thank you;" hostess didn't thank, but said 
* * Yes. ' ' After supper, on a bureau which stood 
in the room, I found a number of Massachusetts 
papers and a file of the Boston Recorder. 
While I was trying to reconcile the paper with 
the whiskey, the little man handed me a late 
number of the Recorder, saying that his son 
was the editor, and sent him the paper every 
week. I said, "Nathaniel Willis edits the Re- 
corder.'' He said, **Yes, Nat.; I gave Nat. 
my trade; I was a printer. Nat. has got along 
pretty well; Nat. is the editor now." "Then 
you are the father of Nathaniel Willis.?" 
"Yes; I worked at printing until I got tired, 
and thought I would give it up to Nat. and 
come west and try farming: pretty rough yet; 
but I got tired of the printing office. "^^ 

^2 Nathaniel Willis, born in 1780 and died in 1870, 
was a prominent New England editor of his day. In 
1803 he established the Portland Eastern Argus; in 
1816 he founded the Boston Recorder, one of the 
earliest religious newspapers in the world. In 1827 
he founded the Youth's Companion, which is said to 
have been the first children's paper ever published. 
The father, whom the Tillsons encountered in Ohio, 

42 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



Some twelve or fifteen years afterward I met 
N. P. Willis at the American Hotel in New 
York. He had just returned from Europe 
with his English wife, and they were showing 
off, to the amusement of other guests of the 
house. I thought then how much easier his 
grand-dad might have dropped on his knee 
and laced the shoes of his big half than could 
N. P. with his tight unmentionables all strapped 
down; to accomphsh which gallant act grace- 
fully under the circumstances, required some 
skill. In after years I became acquainted with 
Richard Willis, who told me that the wife I saw 
was not his grandmother, but that she was a 
Virginian, and I then comprehended her — 
evidently "poor white folks." When the fas- 
tidious N. P. Willis went through the West, 
and was shocked at the rudeness of Quincy 
and the Quincy House, I again thought of the 
old grand-dad. Fanny Fern, had she known 
of it, might have written a book about "The 
days of my grand-dad; the jolliest man that 
ever broke bread." 

At Cincinnati a serious question arose ; the 
possibility of getting through Indiana with a 
carriage seemed doubtful. There had been a 
continuous rain during our travel through Ohio, 

had been editor and proprietor successively of several 
papers before coming west. N. P. Willis, son of the 
founder of Youth's Companion, was a well-known poet 
and literary worker of the first half of the nineteenth 
century. 

43 



a WtMXian'^ ^torp 



and the river, which at Wheeling appeared so 
insignificant, had expanded itself into magnifi- 
cence at Cincinnati, and when they talked 
about the streams in Indiana not being fordable 
in consequence of the late rains I, for the first 
time, received the idea as a reality that there 
was such a thing as an inhabited country with- 
out bridges — -my education was just beginning. 
After much talking and due deliberation it was 
decided that we should put our carriage and all 
our baggage on board a little steamboat bound 
for Louisville; that your father and myself were 
to go on board as passengers while your Uncle 
Robert was to proceed on horseback, riding 
one horse and leading the other, as it was 
possible for a horseman to head the creeks and 
pass where there was no carriage road. It 
was my first steamboat experience, and I had 
at least a quiet time, I being the only lady 
passenger. The little boat was new and clean; 
a small cabin separated from the main cabin 
and containing four berths were the accomo- 
dations intended for lady passengers, and we 
had this to ourselves. We were on the boat 
several days. After a day or two a gentleman 
came in and commenced an acquaintance with 
us, introducing himself as Mr. Dent, from 
Missouri. He said he had wanted to say to me 
that there would be no impropriety or discom- 
fort in my occupying a seat by the stove in the 
gentleman's cabin; that as the ladies' cabin had 
been painted while at Cincinnati, it was unsafe 
44 



of pioneer 3^llinoi^ 



to remain in it; and suggested our keeping it 
open and exposed to the air through the day. 
He said that his father came to his death in 
consequence of occupying a newly painted 
apartment. It was a very kind suggestion and 
I have always remembered it, and when his 
daughter married Ulysses, and Ulysses became 
our President, and when I hear Mrs. Grant 
spoken of with respect, I always feel well 
pleased, and remember the benevolence that 
characterized her father. 

When we arrived at Louisville I was kindly 
received by two famihes of your father's 
cousins. Mr. Joseph Danforth and Mr. Ed- 
mund Lewis had both, with their families, re- 
sided there four or five years, and were part- 
ners in the drygoods business. Mr. Danforth 
had a family of four children, Mr. Lewis, a son. 
The year following Mr. and Mrs. Danforth lost 
two of their daughters, leaving them Joseph 
and JuHa, who are still living. Mrs. Danforth 
and Mr. Lewis were own cousins to your father. 
At Louisville we found our prospects no better 
in regard to getting through the country in a 
carriage, and after staying there several days 
— as a boat was about to leave for New Orleans, 
probably the last one for several weeks — we de- 
cided to take passage for Shawneetown. Your 
Uncle Robert had not arrived with the horses, 
and as he was inexperienced in travel we felt 
much solicitude on his account, but it seemed 
our only alternative. 

45 



a Womm'^ c&torp 



We landed at Shawneetown early Monday 
morning; had expected to arrive there the 
Saturday previous. We had a poor apology 
for a boat, and accomodations were only known 
by name. Captain Dent, who was also a pas- 
senger, decided to keep by the boat in hopes of 
finding a New Orleans boat at the mouth of 
the Ohio that would take him to St. Louis. 
He said a great deal to us about the presump- 
tion of trying to cross Illinois by carriage, and 
thought we had better even go to New Orleans 
if we failed to meet a boat at Cairo, but your 
father seemed very hopeful, and besides we 
both felt as if we could go no farther until we 
had heard from Robert, from whom we had 
parted at Cincinnati, and had heard nothing 
for nearly two weeks. Mr. Dent in parting 
gave me a fatherly grip of the hand, with an 
assurance that he should feel interested in 
knowing that I was safely through all the bogs 
and bayous and corduroys that I might en- 
counter. The swimming creeks and miry 
bottoms were all Greek to me, and his look so 
mysterious that I did not understand. I was 
able to interpret it before the end of my journey. 

We walked from the boat landing to the 
hotel, a short distance, but it was raining hard 
and the mud was deep and adhesive, and I 
reached the house very much fatigued. It 
was before breakfast, and after getting me to 
the bar-room fire — the only one that never 
went out in the house — your father went to 
46 



of pioneer ^fHinoi^ 



look after the "plunder," a western term for 
baggage. When he returned he thought I had 
better take some whiskey to ward off the effects 
of the morning's exposure. It was the first 
time I had ever tasted it and though always an 
impalatable beverage to me, I shall never for- 
get how disgusted and outraged I was by that 
first taste at Shawneetown.^^ Our hotel — the 
only brick house in the place — made quite 
a commanding appearance from the river, 
towering, as it did, among the twenty — more 
or less — log cabins and the three or four box- 
looking frames. One or two of these were 
occupied as stores, one was a doctor's office; 
a lawyer's shingle graced the corner of one, 
cakes and beer another. 

The hotel lost its significance, however, on 
entering its doors. The finish was of the 
cheapest kind, the plastering hanging loose 
from the walls, the floors carpetless, except 
with nature's carpeting; with that they were 
richly carpeted. The landlord — a poor white 
man from the South — was a whiskey keg in the 
morning, and a keg of whiskey at night; stupid 
and gruff in the morning, by noon could talk 
poHtics and abuse the Yankees, and by sundown 
was brave for a fight. His wife kept herself 
in the kitchen; his daughters — one married 

^^ Shawneetown was at this time one of the two 
principal towns of Illinois, the other being Kaskaskia ; 
the former was the land office for southeastern Illi- 
nois and the principal center for its travel and traffic. 

47 



31 ^oman'^ ^torp 



and two single — performed the agreeable to 
strangers; the son-in-law, putting on the airs 
of a gentleman, presided at the table, carving 
the pork, dishing out the cabbage, and talking 
big about his political friends. His wife — 
being his wife — he seemed to regard as a 
notch above the other branches of the family, 
and had her at his right hand at the table, where 
she sat with her long curls, and with her baby 
in her lap. Baby always seemed to be hungry 
while mammy was eating her dinner, and so 
"little honey" took dinner at the same time. 
Baby didn't have any table-cloth — new man- 
ners to me. Your father's caution was always 
at hand, to try not to give them the impression 
that I was proud, with an allusion to the preju- 
dice felt by this class of people toward the 
Yankees. We had a room fronting the street 
and could see everyone that came to the ferry, 
which was directly opposite the house, and my 
occupation from Monday until Friday was 
watching for Robert and the horses. We not 
only were in great haste to get away from such 
a disagreeable place, but were anxious for the 
safety of Robert, who had never before been 
left to do for himself. Indeed, we were all 
inexperienced and untried. 

I can now recall the joy I felt when late in 
the afternoon on Friday, your father and Uncle 
Robert presented themselves before the hotel. 
Your father had crossed the ferry several times 
each day, hoping to meet the long-looked-for; 
48 



of pioneer ^Plltuoi^ 



it availed nothing, but for the want of some- 
thing else to do, and to quiet his anxiety, he 
kept on the move. Robert had sold one of the 
horses, finding it tiresome and difficult to lead 
one while he rode another, but had retained the 
best horse, "Charley." The first thing to be 
done was to buy a horse. Our landlord was 
quite at his ease as a horse-jockey, and early 
the next morning there appeared an array of 
men with their horses, each hoping to get a 
good bargain out of the green Yankees. After 
a few hours bantering it was decided that we 
were to have a little black pony, strangely con- 
trasting with the noble bearing of our * 'Charley " 
horse. 

Our landlord was very officious through it 
all, and finally closed up his morning's task by 
having a fight with one of the countrymen. I 
was at the open window and witnessed the 
whole disgraceful outbreak. I had often before 
heard of the western gouging and fighting, but 
never before saw a fight, and hope I never may 
again. I can now see the landlord, thin, tall, 
and erect, with his gray locks floating in the 
air, using the most unheard of profanity, 
"clinched," as they termed it, with a fat, 
squatty-looking beast of a being, each aiming 
at the other's eyes, and each showing that 
their dodging powers had been well trained. 
The desire of an ignorant westerner to stand 
up for his ''rights," as he called them, was the 
predominant feeling of his nature, and when 

49 



a ^oman'^ ^torp 



these rights were encroached upon he knew no 
other redress than by strength of muscle; so 
when the countryman called the landlord "a 
pint-blank, mean liar, " because he-had not sold 
his horse to the Yankee, it was exasperating, 
but when the countryman saw your father 
counting out the bright "shiners" to one of his 
neighbors — the former owner of our pony — 
his wrath knew no bounds. He abused Hilton, 
who would not take abuse, hence the fight. 
Some half dozen of the lookers-on separated 
them, and old Hilton, after mopping his face 
with his shirt-sleeve, went into the house. 

We then busied ourselves in getting ready to 
start as soon as' possible, and I went to dinner 
light-hearted at the thought of its being the last 
meal at that place. Old Boniface didn't appear 
at dinner, and after going through the form I 
went to my room to put on my outer gear for 
the journey. I was standing with my back 
towards the door when I heard a voice behind 
me, and, looking around, there stood Hilton, 
with his face covered with plasters. It was 
always my weakness to scream when suddenly 
startled, so I perpetrated one of the most un- 
earthly yells — which your father had not yet 
become acquainted with. He was coming to 
the room, and was near the door when the ex- 
plosion took place. I do not know which one 
of the two was most puzzled to know what 
ailed me. As the landlord had only come to 
the room for the trunks, and we were hurrying 
50 



of pioneer 3^Hinoi^ 



to get away, not much explanation was neces- 
sary. 

It was not in accordance with my ideas to 
start on a journey on Saturday afternoon, but 
the thing had been talked over and the chances 
for Sabbath observance seemed less here than 
to launch out into one of the broad prairies. 
We thought perhaps we might come to some 
more congenial place; at least we should be 
relieved from the drunkenness and profanity 
for which Shawneetown was at that time noted; 
so about two o'clock we rode out of Shawnee- 
town. 

Before leaving, your father met a Mr. 
McClintock, who gave him a way-bill of the 
country through which we were to pass, with 
the names of the best places- for meals and 
lodging. Mr. McClintock was a government 
surveyor, and had been all over the country, 
and we found it a great assistance to have his 
directions. The first place found on our bill 
was Brice Hanna's, where we could find good 
accomodations for man and beast. I well re- 
member the joyous freedom we realized after 
leaving Shawneetown. All were relieved from 
the anxiety caused by our separation, and were 
again at liberty to pursue our journey, and as 
it was my first introduction to the State which 
was to be my home I tried to make the dismal- 
looking bottom prairie through which we were 
passing look cheerful and homelike, merely 
because it was Illinois. Your father suggested 
51 



31 9^aman'^ ^torp 



that we should not make up our minds yet as 
to the beauty of a western prairie from what 
we saw of the "bottom lands," and as I could 
not succeed in finding anything to admire in 
the prospect around, I was willing to let the 
future take care of itself, and for variety started 
a song. The gentlemen were both singers, 
and I, putting in what power I possessed, we 
made the woods and prairies resound. 

After riding about two hours we came to a 
horrible corduroy, and were relieved when that 
came to an end and we found ourselves at a 
running brook, where we stoppe*d to give our 
horses water. After giving them due time to 
slake their thirst, and the signal was given them 
to move on, we found them a fixture, and all 
the coaxing and whipping that was alternately 
administered had no effect to produce a forward 
movement. As "Charley" had always been so 
reliable, never having departed from his lofty 
bearing, the conclusion was that the new horse 
must be at fault, consequently a sound whipping 
was administered upon the poor darkey, who 
by plunging and trying to leap forward showed 
his willingness to obey. It then became evi- 
dent that the trouble was with "Charley," 
who, when he was whipped, only floundered 
about in the water, and then settled himself 
down again. Your father looked perplexed 
and troubled, and on closer examination dis- 
covered the stump of an old tree at the bottom 
of the water which he thought might be the 

52 



of pioneer 3^IIinoxi8f 



cause of the difficulty. There being but one 
way to get out of it, he commenced another 
lashing of poor "Charley." I felt like crying 
and I am not sure but that I gave myself up to 
that indulgence. Your father seemed to feel 
every lash that he administered to his poor 
victim, who, finally, with one desperate leap 
freed himself from his anchorage, and it was 
found that one of his feet had been caught be- 
tween two prongs of the stump, thereby holding 
him fast. Joy came to us all when we found 
that although * 'Charley" came out with a ragged 
hoof and looking decidedly used up, he was 
able to walk and to take us on our journey. 
Your father had made up his mind — so he 
told us afterwards — that one of his legs was 
broken, and that he should be obliged to kill 
him, and leave poor "Charley" by the wayside, 
which would have been a most grievous thing 
to him. He had purchased him before going 
east with Mr. Collins in the spring; had rode 
from Illinois to Massachusetts on horseback, 
and then had driven him back to Illinois ; and 
he was such a rare specimen of all that was 
reliable and elegant his loss would have been 
to us irreparable. 

After the excitement was over — the carriage 
having been disengaged from the horses and 
drawn back on the corduroy — finding it would 
be some time before all could be in readiness 
to move again, I discovered myself not in high 
heart; that my enthusiasm for western prairies 
53 



a. Ig^oman^^ ^torp 



was vanishing; that I was approaching the ex- 
treme of what Captain Artus afterwards called 
"gaudiloupiness." So I concluded as my only 
resource to start off on a brisk walk, expecting 
the carriage would soon overtake me, but after 
losing sight of my companions, and looking 
about into the swampy surroundings, things 
looked dubious and the dismals were getting a 
good hold of my feelings when I heard a most 
unearthly yell coming through the forest, and 
the vivid recollection of a panther story I had 
heard not long before coming to my help, I 
turned back and with a quicker step than I 
could take now hastened towards the carriage, 
not knowing whether I was going from or ap- 
proaching the dreaded foe. I had heard that 
their manner of attack was to perch themselves 
on the branch of a tree, and when within reach- 
ing distance pounce upon their prey. Every 
rustling of the branches assured me that a pan- 
ther was on the watch for me with a hungry 
appetite. 

At last I reached the brook, where a new 
difficulty was presenting itself. The horses 
had become so thoroughly frightened that no 
urging or driving could get them near enough 
to hitch to the carriage, and while trying to in- 
vent some way to draw it over two teamsters 
came along, each having a large Pennsylvania 
wagon drawn by four horses. One of the for- 
ward horses — which they called the leader — 
had a saddle on, on which sat the owner of the 
54 



of pioneer ^Pllinoi^ 



team, one of the men looking as lordly as if he 
was leading an army to battle. Your father 
asked them if they would take off their forward 
horses and draw out the carriage. The man 
nearest — the lordly looking one — said he 
would do it for a **dorller." Your father not 
pretending to hear him, went on trying his own 
horses. The man again called out :. "Stranger, 
I say, I'll do it for a dorller." Your father 
told him he was in difficulty and would be much 
obliged to anyone who would help him. The 
wagoner looked sulky, and the man in the rear 
wagon called out : "See here, Brice, you move 
along; it isn't me that leaves a stranger in a 
fix like this;" so the "dollar" man moved on 
and the other drove up, unhitched his horses, 
and putting them to our carriage drew it out of 
the water. The whole performance did not 
occupy ten minutes. When the man was on 
his horse again and ready for a start, your 
father bestowed many thanks on him, and we 
were soon on our way. We soon overtook the 
teams ^nd inquired how far it was to Brice 
Hanna's, and were answered by the man who 
had helped us. We also asked if it was a 
good place to stop. Imagine our surprise when 
he pointed to the other man and said, "That is 
Brice Hanna." Brice pretended not to hear. 



Old rheumatism took me by the hand a few 
weeks ago, and has held his grip so tightly 
55 



a ^oman'i^ J>torp 



that I thought my penciHngs were at an end; 
but, having a release from my bondage, and 
f eehng quite lonely, I have concluded to resume 
my recollections of western life. In recording 
reminiscences of the past I have tried to give 
a truthful description of events as they oc- 
curred forty-eight years ago. I probably have 
forgotten many things that were, at the time 
of their occurrence, interesting to me. I re- 
gret that I have not the power within me to 
give a more high-toned record, but as that 
gift is not, and the subject not a soul-inspiring 
one, I must be content to suit my story to the 
log cabin surroundings, which are not wont to 
elexate. 

Mr. Hardy, a Presbyterian minister, who 
used to have his home with us when in our 
vicinity, said that on his first going west, 
when he attempted to write he would find 
himself falling into log cabin dialect, and log 
cabin notions of things, and that he used to 
get a volume of Burns' poems — of which 
he was fond — and read, and then look at 
the log walls of the cabin, then read again, 
and look at his puncheon floor, and try to look 
at them with a mind elevated by the inspiration 
of reading, and he felt he had accomplished 
quite an improved standard. But no such 
experiment came to my help. The indescrib- 
able care devolving upon a housekeeper in 
that new and rough country and the ways and 
means to which one must resort in order to 
56 



of pioneer ^Pllinoijef 



keep up a comfortable establishment absorbed 
not only the physical strength of a Yankee 
housewife, but all the faculties of the mind 
had to be brought into requisition in order to 
secure a comfortable living.^] 

I believe when I left off writing we were on 
our way to our night's station, and had been 
introduced to our host. I so vividly remember 
the events of that night that I will try to give 
you some idea of it. Brice Hanna was a tall, 
well-formed man with good features, and but 
for his surly expression might have been called 
handsome. When we arrived at his house he 
dismounted, came up to the carriage, and told 
us there was another house on the other side of 
the swamp where we could stay; that he had 
been from home all the week; that his wife was 
sick, and that we could not be accommodated 
anyhow. Your father told him that it was 
nearly sunset, and that he should not attempt 
to go through a five-mile swamp until he 
could do it by daylight, so we unpacked our- 
selves and moved towards the house, and with 
much fear and trembling I set my foot on 
the threshold of Brice Hanna's cabin. There 
was but one room in the main cabin, which I 
at once perceived was unusually clean for an 
establishment of that kind. There were two 
beds nicely made, with clean pillows and hand- 
some bed-quilts, the floor clean, and the coarse 
chairs looking as if they had just been scrubbed. 
In a large, open fire-place was a cheerful fire 
57 



% Woman'^ J^torp 



of oak logs, which were supported by one old 
iron andiron and a stone on the other side. But 
what most puzzled me was a pretty woman — 
who did not seem to be more than twenty — 
sitting with her feet on a chair, and with 
pillows around her, and holding her infant in 
her lap. Her skin was very fair, and she had 
an abundance of jet black, curly hair, and 
bright, black eyes. She had on a pretty pink 
cahco dress, which with her baby's gear had 
the appearance of thorough cleanliness. She 
looked a little annoyed when we first went in, 
but politely asked us to be seated, and by her 
manner we concluded that she was mistress of 
the mansion. 

Brice had not made his appearance, but he 
finally came in bringing a stone, which he threw 
down with an oath, saying he had had his eye 
on that rock for some time, and thought it 
would be a match for the one in the fire-place. 
He commenced pulling out the andiron, swear- 
ing at the fire for being too hot. His wife 
looked on tremblingly, and asked why he was 
not willing to have the andiron remain, as it 
was **a heap handier than the stone." With 
another string of oaths he jerked out the poor 
andiron, and taking it to the door he threw it 
as far as he could into the yard. Such things 
might do for the broadcloth gentry, but he did 
not belong to the gentry; at the same time 
giving one of his menacing glances at us. He 
went out, but returned in a few minutes to say 
58 



of pioneer S^IIinoi^ 



to his wife that the woman she had there — 
who, with her husband and boy, occupied a 
little cabin in the yard — * 'should not stay in 
his diggings another night," and with another 
oath said, "clare them out." "Well, what is 
the matter?" asked the trembling wife. * 'Mat- 
ter! why the cursed " a list of epithets too 

fearful to repeat; ' 'infernal fool has let the hogs 
and cows get into my corn-field and destroy 
more corn and potatoes than thar eternally 
cursed necks are worth; so I'll clare them 
out," finishing off his sentence with another 
string of oaths not to be outdone by Sancho 
Panza's proverbs. 

The poor wife would shrink down when the 
blast was heaviest, but after he had gone would 
brighten up again. When one of the storms had 
subsided and he had gone out to anathematize 
the man and boy with curses loud and heavy, 
I ventured to ask her how long she had been a 
cripple. She said only a few months; that just 
before her baby was born she fell into the well 
and broke some of her bones, and was so hurt 
all over that she had not been able to walk since, 
and if it had been God's will she should have 
wished never to have come out alive. She was 
ignorant, but pretty, and with a sweet expres- 
sion ; so much truthfulness was manifested in 
all she said that my heart went out to her with 
a compassion that I cannot express. 

After awhile the fiend again made his ap- 
pearance with a large slice of bacon and corn 
59 



a l^oman^^ J^torp 



bread in his hand, and with his foot he kicked 
along a chair until he reached his wife, and 
seating himself by her side he took out a long 
bowie knife and commenced eating. Looking 
at her with something of a subdued tone, he 
said: "This is the first corn bread and bacon 
I have tasted since I went from here." **Too 
bad," she remarked, pleasantly; "and what did 
you eat all the week? " "Why, you see, I was 
hauling for Marshall; Marshall is building a 
big house; and I have been hauling brick and 
timber. When 1 gits to the house Marshall 
will call to that infernal old black cook of his'n 

to get my supper, and the " usual list of 

expletives, "fool goes and makes me some 
coffee as black as her derned old face, and 
some of them 'are cussed light Yankee biscuits, 
and some beef that was just warmed through 
as the old bull was when he was running alive 
and bellering, and when you put your knife 
inter hit by thunder the blood would run. 
Haven't had a bite of pone, or corn-dodger, or 
hog meat, not any since last Monday morning." 
"Too bad; didn't they give you any milk.? " 
"Jest so; axed for milk, and the old black 
devil brought me some jest from the cow; 
haven't seen a sip of buttermilk or clabber." 
"Too bad." She looked pleased that he had 
become sufficiently subdued to bear soothing. 
We had previously called for supper, and 
were summoned into the cabin in the yard, 
which was used for a kitchen and dining-room. 
60 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



The woman of all work — the wife of the man 
who didn't keep the hogs out of the corn- 
field — was standing at a side table where we 
were to be seated for our evening repast. I 
have forgotten what we had for food, but re- 
member the cleanliness of the rough furnishing, 
and that a saucer standing on the table, filled 
with lard, with a strip of white cloth laid in it 
and one end raised up at the side of the saucer, 
burning, served to light the table and the whole 
room. We went back from our supper to 
where the happy pair were still seated, he 
looking as if he had blown another blast and 
had settled down to sulk, and the wife trying 
to look happy, and smiling through her tears. 
He sat awhile as if trying to think of something 
disagreeable to say or do. All at once a happy 
thought seemed to occur to him, and looking 
at us with malicious satisfaction he commenced 
a furious rubbing and scratching, pushing up 
his sleeves and looking at his wrists. He 
turned suddenly around and asked us if we had 
any beds of our own to stretch on for the 
night. He had seen all we took from the 
carriage, and knew that we had no beds along, 
and looked satanically happy when he an- 
nounced that we would all get the itch, as all 
in the house had it, and swore that the cursed 
old fellow who couldn't keep the cows out of 
the corn-field had brought the itch to them. 
Such startling information would have been 
fearful had I not looked at the honest face of 
6i 



a ^Ditian'^ ^torp 



the poor wife, who, without uttering a word, 
showed plainly that it was news to her, and I 
felt sure it was only a scheme of his own to 
make us uncomfortable. He seemed disap- 
pointed that he had not made a greater sensa- 
tion, and as no one replied to his last effort he 
settled himself to think of something else dis- 
agreeable. 

At last, with a more extended swear than 
before, he said he was tired, and was going 
to bed; it would do for gentry, who could 
stay in bed as long as they pleased, to sit 
up late, "but I'm no gentry, and I'm going 
to bed." There were two beds in the room, 
standing foot to foot, on the side opposite the 
fire-place. One was for us, the other for Brice, 
wife and baby, your Uncle Robert making his 
bed on the floor with the carriage cushions 
and a buffalo robe which had been purchased 
at Shawneetown. He evidently felt relieved 
that he was not under the necessity of getting 
into the infected beds. Although I did not 
believe there was any danger, I took the pre- 
caution to spread some pocket-handkerchiefs 
over the pillows, and by only removing my 
outside garments and putting on gloves, a thing 
I could not induce your father to do, felt 
pretty secure as to infection, but not quite 
comfortable as respected the mood of mine 
host. Being very tired I thought I would lie 
down, but not allow myself to sleep. Our 
trunks were deposited in the same room where 
62 



of pioneer S^Hinoi^ 



we were, and I imagined that there had been 
a suspicious eyeing throughout the evening,, 
and that the inside as well as the out might 
prove attractive ; as we were so evidently in close 
quarters with a mad man, was not altogether 
at ease about our personal safety. I was very 
tired, and Morpheus finally overcame all my 
resolutions and made me forgetful of danger. 
I do not know how long I had slept, when 
aroused by the crying of baby and the coarse 
swearing of the father. He scolded his wife 
for letting it cry, and then cursed the "little 
imp; imp of the devil." The wife said the 
child needed caring for, and would not go to 
sleep without it; that it must be taken to the 
fire and made dry and comfortable, but he 
swore he would gag the squalling brat. After 
a while he sprang out of bed and pulling the 
child from under the bed clothes, declared he 
would roast it. There was in the fire-place a 
large fire, made of oak logs, which were all 
aglow and gave light to the whole room. He 
took the baby under one arm, and with two or 
three bounds was at the fire-place. He com- 
menced raking open the coals, still holding 
baby under his arm, swearing he would make 
a back-log; "yes, I'll brile ye." I kept both 
eyes open and trembled for the fate of the 
baby, when, to my surprise, he seated himself, 
carefully warmed the dry linen that was hang- 
ing by the fire, and in the most handy manner 
performed all that a good nurse or mother 
63 



a ^oman'^ ^torp 



could have done. And now that baby was dry 
and there was no good reason for crying, and 
swearing did not soothe, he pressed "the brat, 
imp of the devil, * ' to his breast, and commenced 
singing a good Methodist hymn in a soft, sub- 
dued voice, and had it been my first impression 
I should have supposed him a most devout 
Christian. A more sudden change from the 
profane to the devotional could not be imagined. 
This scene occurred forty-eight years ago, 
and now it is as fresh to my mind as at that 
time, but perfectly to describe it would be im- 
possible. The most provoking part of the 
last performance was that I had to enjoy it 
alone; no one to share with me the ludicrous 
climax of the closing hymn, your father and 
Uncle Robert being asleep. As soon as it was 
light we were up and ready for a leave-taking. 
At the five-mile house on the other side of the 
swamp we found a plain, decent family, who 
gave us a breakfast of ''common doings," 
corn bread and bacon, without any attempt at 
"wheat bread and chicken fixings," and from 
them we heard more of Brice Hanna. The 
man told us that Brice had a good farm and in 
his way kept his family comfortable, took pride 
in having the best wagon and horses in the 
county. He had always been proud of his 
wives, the one we saw being his third, but his 
greatest pride was in his peculiar capacity for 
swearing. He once took an oath that he 
would not swear again for two years, from the 
64 



of ^ionctt 2f ilinoi^ 



fact that he had found a man down in "Shaw- 
nee" who could out-swear him, and he said he 
felt mean ever after. He was true to his vow, 
but when the two years had expired com- 
menced with renewed vigor. The gossip of 
the settlement was that his first wife died of a 
broken heart, that he had poisoned the second, 
and that the poor young creature whom we 
saw had jumped into the well to drown herself, 
but the water not being deep, was pulled out 
with nothing but bruises for her effort. The 
man did not believe the story of his having 
poisoned his second wife, but thought what was 
reported of the last might be true. 

We had left Shawneetown on Saturday with 
the feeling that it was no place to spend the 
Sabbath, and finding ourselves at a worse place 
at night, we did not think it amiss to move on 
Sunday morning. At the place where we 
breakfasted they told us there was no place of 
preaching near, but on the other side of the 
prairie they had preaching every Sunday in a 
schoolhouse, so there being no place here to 
stay longer than to breakfast and to rest our 
horses, we set our faces northward again, and 
soon after starting came to a large prairie; I 
think it was called "Hind's prairie." This 
was my first introduction to a real prairie, and 
I must say I was sorely disappointed. Your 
father had talked so much about their beauty 
that I expected to feel a kind of enchantment. 
He said, "you never saw anything like this be- 
65 



^ l^oman'^ ^torp 



fore." I said "no; " but did not say I never 
saw anything more dismal; and to those who 
have seen western prairies after the autumnal 
fires have passed over, leaving them in all 
their blackness, with an occasional strip of 
coarse grass or a scrubby bush, it will be need- 
less to describe, and I think hard to gather 
beauties from it. 

We did not reach a stopping place until 
dark. Found a cabin with one room, the two 
heads alone being at home. The "younguns," 
as the mother said, had gone to preaching at 
the schoolhouse, two miles off. We felt no 
inclination to follow and join in the services, 
although they said that the ''greatest preacher 
in the sarkit was to be thar." The people all 
thought a * 'power of him, ' ' and he was "doing 
a heap of good." They gave us a clean, coarse 
supper; had neither coffee nor "store tea," 
but what they call "mountain tea," made from 
some herb that grew in that region. It had a 
pleasant taste, and with appetites sharpened 
by hunger and thirst we made a very refreshing 
meal, and were soon snugly occupying the one- 
legged bedstead that stood in the corner of the 
cabin. If I had endurance to write all I would 
like, I would tell of some of the freaks of one- 
legged bedsteads, and also give a description 
of them. 

I do not recollect where we stopped Mon- 
day night, but remember a place where we 
called about noon on Tuesday, and the mis- 
66 



of poneer S^Ilinoi^ 



take I made. As we went into the yard a little 
boy with no other garment on than a shirt was 
mounted on a large white horse, while two 
larger boys, in shirts and pants, were driving 
the horse around the house. I thought they 
were imposing on their little brother and 
stopped to ask them not to tease him in that 
way, and to get his clothes and let him dress 
himself. Your father looked amused, and said 
I had come too late in the season to see the 
prairie boys * 'turned into their shirts," a west- 
ern custom of which I will speak hereafter. 
Your father called for a pitcher of milk, but 
the pitcher with the one tumbler furnished was 
sufficient for me; I can see them now as they 
then looked in their filth. 

Thursday, November 26, we arrived at a 
very comfortable looking two-story log house, 
just before sunset. The outward appearance 
of the establishment indicated that they — as 
the westerners say — * ' were in a better fix ' ' than 
most of their neighbors, so we anticipated a 
good supper, but I saw the lady — as she called 
herself — go through the whole process of pre- 
paring the meal, which satisfied all my cravings 
for supper, though my appetite had been well 
sharpened by a day's ride. I could relate a 
queer experience, but am getting along slowly 
in my week's travel from "Shawnee." Your 
father not knowing the reason why I could not 
eat supper, being out with the host during the 
preparations, asked for an early breakfast, as 
67 



21 Wnmm'^ ^torp 



we might not find as good a place on the way. 
Oh, dear, what could I do? In vain I urged 
him to start before breakfast, but he could see 
no reason for so doing, and I in presence of 
host and hostess could not explain. 

Tired and supperless I went to bed, and 
''nature's sweet restorer" soon came to my 
relief. I awoke early, and perceiving through 
the chintz curtains that hung around our bed, 
that there was light in the room, hastened to 
awake your father, and urged him to get off 
without waiting for breakfast. He peered 
through the loop-holes, and with much satisfac- 
tion told me it was the fire-light I saw, and they 
were preparing our breakfast. Oh, oh, oh! 
what could I do .'' I told him it would be im- 
possible for me to eat a mouthful in that house, 
and that what I had seen the night before was 
already more than I could stand; but before 
we were ready to start breakfast was smoking 
on the table, and I had no alternative but to 
sit down. Fortunately the lady thought I 
might be sick, and rummaging somewhere 
brought me a cracker, which, with some honey- 
comb that was on the table, made an apology 
for a breakfast. Hunger had so far gained 
the ascendancy that I would not look to see 
the place where the cracker had been deposited. 

We were soon ready to take up our line of 

travel, and to say farewell to our hosts. Mine 

host, by the way, was no mean personage; 

talked politics, did not swear; said he had been 

68 



of pioneer ^Fllinoi^ 



thinking of running for the legislature; seemed 
to be in good humor with every one — particu- 
larly himself. Mine hostess had children from 
boys of sixteen or eighteen to the wee baby 
sitting on the floor, with a darkey of the mas- 
culine gender for a nurse; said nurse was 
about as large as a good-sized dog, and could 
act dog or monkey, as best suited baby's whims; 
so having a darkey she was a mistress, conse- 
quently a lady. When we were again on our 
way I had the time to review the incidents of 
the past week. Shawneetown, the encounter 
with the stump at our watering place, Brice 
Hanna, the poverty, ignorance, and filthiness 
of the people I had met, the black dismal 
prairie I had crossed, suffering from pinching 
hunger, and, with feelings better imagined than 
described, was feeling that the farther I went 
the worse things I might have to encounter. 
When your father said "the breakfast seemed 
pretty good," I asked him if he thought it had 
time to digest ? If so, I would tell him of a 
few things that went to make his meal. 

After leaving Shawneetown we had been 
traveling in a northwesterly direction, making 
a circuitous route in order to head the water 
courses, there being no bridges in those days. 
On Wednesday, about noon, we came to the 
Kaskaskia River, where there was a rope ferry. 
I had never seen anything like it before — be- 
Heve it is called cordelling. 



69 



a Wmnan'^ J>torp 



Febj'uary 7, Jc?//. 

Have not been able, on account of my rheu- 
matic infirmity, to write for several weeks, 
and I cannot make up my mind to read over 
what I have written of late, but imagine that 
although true to the letter it is fidgety, par- 
taking of my uncomfortable temperament at 
the time I wrote, for I was looking back to 
the dark events of nearly fifty years' standing 
under the shadow that dyspeptic eyes can cast 
over even things cheering. I will endeavor to 
forget the trivial perplexities that were so 
vividly occupying my mind at that time. I 
have been enabled through the most of my 
sickness to keep a bright future, and think I 
still do, but so many weaknesses, dyspeptic 
troubles, my irritating cough and bronchial 
difficulties, and of late rheumatic twinges, all 
conspire to make me momentarily desponding 
and cause me to bury myself under a heavy 
cloud. I rejoice that the cloud soon passes 
away, and that I am left to meditate on the 
loving kindness that has always surrounded 
me. Cast down, but through the loving kind- 
ness of my gentle Shepherd, I feel that I am 
not forgotten or uncared for. 

From the Kaskaskia River we proceeded to 
the town of Carlyle, the county seat of Clinton 
County, where we found several frame houses, 
the first I had seen after leaving Shawneetown. 
We drove up to a comfortable looking frame 
70 



of ^ionect S^Ilinoi^ 



tavern, and were ushered into their dining 
room, where was a nice fire of hickory wood, 
with a clean brick hearth, which had evidently 
been washed that day; brass andirons, too, 
clean and bright. I had only time to divest 
myself of my outer wrapping when dinner was 
brought in. The nice roast chickens with all 
their accompaniments were prepared in Yankee 
style, and set on a nicely washed and ironed 
table cloth, to say nothing of the peach pie, 
and sundry other things. Did I not luxuriate ? 
I do not think I am particularly given to gor- 
mandizing, but after such loathing of food for 
a week and dire starvation, that dinner and the 
tidiness and comfort that reigned in that 
dwelling is so indelibly impressed on my mind 
as never to be forgotten. 

After dinner we rode twenty miles to Green- 
ville, the county seat of Bond County. I went 
with a lighter heart after being fed, and feeling, 
too, that I was not entirely beyond the bounds 
of civilization. At Greenville, where we ar- 
rived a little after dark, we went to the Blan- 
chards', the Stoughton, Massachusetts, family 
of whom I have before spoken. Mr. Blanchard 
was walking the floor with his little daughter 
to keep her from crying, and thereby disturb 
her mother, who was in the room above, and 
had an infant a few days old. After supper we 
received calls from Benjamin Mills and Dr. New- 
hall, who had heard of our arrival, and came 
over from their respective offices ; also from Mr. 
71 



a Woman'^ ^torp 



and Mrs. Birge, who lived in a small brick build- 
ing opposite. Mr. Birge had a store, and was 
postmaster of Bond County. They lived in the 
only brick house in the county. Mrs. Birge 
was a sister of Mrs. Blanchard. Their visit 
was ostensibly a congratulatory one, and all 
seemed much pleased to see your father; but I 
was also much amused to perceive the curiosity 
at work in investigating what kind of a wife 
Tillson had brought out. Your Uncle Robert, 
too, was thoroughly scanned. 

In the morning I was invited up to see Mrs. 
Blanchard, who was sitting up in bed with her 
hair in long ringlets, and looking as if she never 
could be nervous. We then started for our 
home, being only twenty miles from our 
destination. We crossed one of the forks 
of Shoal Creek, which was then fordable, and 
a long prairie, then entered the timber land 
which bordered another fork of the creek. 
Winding through the woods without any road, 
we at last came out on a public road, just 
opened between Vandalia and Springfield, and 
soon came in sight of our future home, our log 
house, enclosed, as you will see in my rough 
drawing, by a fence. It was situated on the 
top of a high bluff from which there was a 
steep descent on the south, reaching to what 
was termed the bottom, and where your father 
afterwards made what he called his "bottom 
farm." He built a cabin thereon, and rented 
it to Billy Buzan. 

72 



of pioneer S^llmoi^ 



Arrived at the house, we were met by a 
horseman who said he had been on the look- 
out for us for several days. I was then for- 
mally introduced to Mr. Shurtleff . I had heard 
your father speak of him. He addressed me 
as an old acquaintance and said he knew my 
father well, which knowledge I afterwards 
found to be that my father, being colonel of a 
militia regiment, once a year at "muster" the 
colonel inspected the several companies belong- 
ing to the regiment, and Shurtleff, being a 
private in a Carver company, saw my father 
every time the inspection took place; hence 
his acquaintance with me. Your father, pre- 
vious to leaving Massachusetts, had written 
Mr. Rountree that he should take back a wife 
and a brother, and wanted him to remain in 
the house and board us through the winter. 
Not hearing from him, had supposed it was all 
arranged as he wished ; he had also written to 
have a kitchen built in the rear of the house 
for Mr. Rountree's benefit, while we were to 
occupy the house. 

Judge of my surprise when on entering to 
find the house without any vestige of furniture, 
excepting the front bedroom, where little 
Major Black was in full possession. In "the 
office " was the old desk and book-case which 
John now has in Quincy, two writing desks, a 
sheet-iron stove, and four spHt-bottomed chairs. 
The room had one window and a puncheon 
floor. Mr. Black said Mr. Rountree had re- 

71 



a ?^pman'^ ^torp 



ceived your father's letter, but had finished his 
cabin and moved into it, leaving him with a few 
quarts of corn-meal in a bag, and a handful 
of salt done up in a newspaper. There had 
been quite an amount of money paid into the 
office, brought up from St. Louis in specie to 
pay the non-resident taxes, and as Mr. Black 
had not deemed it safe to leave the premises 
even long enough to get a meal, he had lived 
on roasted potatoes, seasoned with the salt that 
had been left him, and slaked his thirst from 
the deep well in front of the house. He had 
a mattress and a couple of blankets belonging 
to your father, and these with a buffalo robe 
served for pillow, sheets, and covering. 

Mr. Rountree had rented the ground under 
the peach trees and made a "truck patch ; " 
had divided the products, depositing your 
father's share of potatoes, turnips, and cabbage 
under the floor, which was fortunate for Mr. 
Black in his extremity. Mr. Black said that 
Colonel Seward had been down, and left word 
for us to go to his house and remain until ours 
could be made ready for occupancy; as had 
also Mr. Townsend, the Rev. Jesse. I sat in 
the office with Mr. Black while your father 
went to Jesse Buzan's and engaged board for 
Black and your Uncle Robert, arranging so 
that one could stay in the office while the other 
went to his meals. While this was going on, 
Mr. Shurtleff hard cleared our carriage of 
everything contained therein and brought them 
74 



I 



of J^ioncer S^llinox^ 



into the house, carefully examining every trunk 
and parcel; and although he lived the nearest 
of anyone to our dwelling, never once hinted 
our taking a meal with him, though he well 
knew we had not taken food after leaving 
Greenville in the morning. So when your 
father was ready to start for Colonel Seward's, 
the trunks had to be taken back to the carriage. 
We arrived at the Seward's, three miles from 
our place, about sunset. Mrs. Seward, a dear, 
good woman, and Harriet, now Mrs. Wm. H. 
Brown of Chicago, were the only members of 
the family at home. Before our evening meal 
was ready the Colonel with his boy, John, ar- 
rived from Vandalia. The legislature having 
removed from Kaskaskia, were to hold their 
first session at Vandalia that winter, ^^ and 
Israel Seward Jr., with his wife and niece, 
Sally Slayback, had taken a house there to 
board members of the legislature, leaving their 
two older children, William and George, with 
their grandfather. The old Colonel was all 
smiles and gave me a most cordial welcome, 

"Vandalia, created capital of Illinois by the fiat of 
the first state legislature, at the time lay eighty miles 
in the wilderness. Extravagant expectations were at 
first entertained concerning the growth of the town 
thus created. These were disappointed, and several 
years before the close of the twenty-year period for 
which the capital had been fixed at Vandalia, rival 
towns were seeking to secure the coveted prize. It 
finally went to Springfield, due to the scheming of a 
group of legislators from Sangamon County, in which 
Abraham Lincoln bore a prominent part. 

75 



a l^oman'^ ^torp 



as had also Mrs. and Miss Seward; and it was 
a cordial to my feelings, particularly after my 
introduction and experience with my nearest 
neighbor. I wish I could describe him as I 
first saw him in front of the house. Imagine 
a very tall, lank man, with his legs encased in 
a pair of linsey pantaloons, rough and dirty; 
over these, leggings that came above the knees, 
made from an old bed-blanket and tied up 
with some buckskin strings; then an old drab 
overcoat and a shabby hat; a saddle girth tied 
around his waist, and a coarse, woolen scarf 
around his neck, and all dirty. So many such 
personages presented themselves, welcoming 
your father back, that I should not particularly 
remember his appearance had not my first 
impressions been strengthened by further ac- 
quaintance. 

It was the twenty-eighth of November when 
we arrived at Colonel Seward's, and I had a 
more homelike feeling than for many weeks. 
We had a clean, comfortable meal, Mother 
Seward and Harriet each performing their 
part in the domestic duties, while the Colonel 
talked politics and discussed the affairs of the 
state. Their house was about the size of ours, 
but had not been divided by any partitions. 
On the opposite side from the fireplace were 
two beds, standing foot to foot; there was a 
square frame over each, from which were sus- 
pended curtains that went around the front 
and foot of each bed. The curtains were so 
76 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



arranged as to leave about a foot of space 
between the bed and curtain, to which we could 
pin our dresses, and by inexpansiveness could 
stand within the curtain and feel that we had all 
the privacy of a dressing room. One of the beds 
was for the Colonel and his wife and we had the 
other, while Harriet slept in a small bed, which, 
during the day, was rolled under the Colonel's. 
After breakfast Friday morning your father 
went down to the office, and said he should not 
return until Saturday night. I had a pleas- 
ant, quiet day with Mrs. Seward and Harriet. 
Towards night it began to snow and blow, 
and as I stood by the window — the house had 
but one — watching the storm, a loud rapping 
announced the arrival of more company. Miss 
Harriet opened the door and ushered in two 
respectable-looking gentlemen. One she intro- 
duced as Mr. Conover; although I well remem- 
ber the looks of the other, I cannot recall his 
name; but as if it had occurred yesterday I 
remember how he divested himself of his leg- 
gings and buffalo overshoes, and with what a 
satisfied look he gazed at the fire and took a 
survey of the room. They were members of 
the legislature from Sangamon, on their way 
to Vandalia. Before we had finished our eve- 
ning meal Mrs. Butler Seward came to call on 
me. She lived about a quarter of a mile from 
the Colonel's, in the same grove. As they had 
other company at the Colonel's she invited 
Harriet and myself to return with her and pass 
77 



^ ©oman'iB? ^torp 



the night, so we went, Harriet rising while it 
was yet dark to go home and assist her mother, 
while I remained to breakfast. 

Saturday night your father came up, bringing 
the carriage, and said he would take us ah to 
"preaching" the next day. 

Sunday morning, December 2, was cold and 
pinching; winter had commenced in earnest. 
We rode about two miles to a log cabin which, 
during week days, was the schoolhouse of the 
village or settlement schoolmaster, and Sundays 
was open to the ** circuit rider," — Methodist 
preacher, — who came around "onst" a month, 
and to the "Cumberlands," — Cumberland 
Presbyterians, — who occasionally preached 
there; also to the ** Hard-shells," and to the 
"Seventh-day" Baptists — all were tolerated. 
When we arrived the service had just com- 
menced; a movement was made to give Har- 
riet and myself a seat by the fire, while your 
father posted himself on one of the school- 
house benches that stood against the wall. 
The preacher, big and burly, was about start- 
ing the hymn, which was done by reading the 
first two lines of the verse, and then with an 
indescribable nasal twang, singing to the tune 
of "Old Grimes," the lines that had been re- 
peated. This was a favorite among them: 

"When I can read my titul clare, 
Tue mansheons in the skei, 
I'll bid farewell to everie fear, 
And wipe my weeping ye, yi, yi, 
and wipe " &c. 
78 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



Around the fire sat the mothers with babies, 
while the "young'uns" huddled down on the 
floor beside them. In the circle where we 
were put there seemed to be a mixture of all 
ages, though of but one sex; the lords of 
creation with their big boys occupying the 
back seats. After the sermon — if so it may 
be called — the preacher sang another * ' hyme, " 
the congregation chiming in. It was then 
announced that after a few minutes' recess 
another brother would speak; then commenced 
the performance. The "young'uns" rushed 
to the fire with sticks or pieces of clapboard 
and rolled out the eggs they had brought for 
a lunch and had deposited in the ashes to roast 
while the first preacher was speaking. Each 
youngster worked manfully to secure his own 
rights, and showed dispatch of business in 
getting them peeled and disposed of before the 
preaching was resumed. The good mammas 
who had babies, and who did not wait for recess, 
but had been giving them their lunch during 
the service, now lit their pipes and looked so 
happy and satisfied as the clouds of smoke 
curled out from under their sunbonnets, mean- 
while the sterner sex paying suit to the water 
bucket which stood in the back corner of the 
room; that performance was rather slow, there 
being but one gourd shell for the whole con- 
gregation, so each man would walk up to the 
bucket and while another was drinking would 
relieve his mouth of a heavy quid, holding it 

79 



a ^Ditian'^ ^torp 



in one hand, would take the gourd of water, 
rinse his mouth, spitting the washing on the 
floor, then take his drink, and while passing 
the gourd to the next would throw his " bacca" 
in his mouth and be ready for a chat. 

The preaching had commenced at ten A. M. , 
and it was not until between four and five 
o'clock that we were released from the rant. 
I had never before heard but one Methodist 
preach, and that was Father Taylor, in the 
early part of his ministry. He in New England 
was in those days considered a "ranter," but 
if his preaching was rant, surely our western 
Methodism was ranting outranted. 

The order of preaching was for the first 
speaker to be somewhat logical, and to show 
forth to the listening audience his great learn- 
ing and wisdom; for the last speaker was left 
the sensational. He would "get happy," clap 
his hands, froth at the mouth; the congregation 
responding, some groaning, some crying loudly, 
"Amen," some calling "glory, glory, glory to 
God!" When I look back on these meetings 
now, I can recollect but one impression that 
was left on my mind; that of intense dis- 
gust. If these preachers had come among 
the people meekly, and with an earnest desire 
to do good to the souls of men — however 
weak and ignorant they might have been — I 
could have respected their effort, and felt 
a sympathy in their performances, but their 
whole manner evinced so much arrogance and 
80 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



self-display and such unblushing impudence as 
to repel me. 

As we came out from preaching I was intro- 
duced to Mr. Jesse Buzan, who had married 
'Squire Davy's daughter, Peggy. Jesse invit- 
ed us to his house to dinner, which invitation 
we accepted. The furniture in his cabin con- 
sisted of one bed, a spinning-wheel, six chairs 
and a table; some rude shelves on the wall held 
the dishes, while the Dutch oven and the frying- 
pan found a place on the floor under the shelves. 
Jesse had taken a bee-line through the woods, 
and met us at the door when we arrived, with 
his baby in his arms, and as we went in he 
smilingly looked at his wife and said, "Paygie, 
this heur is Mrs. Tillson." Peggy, who stood 
at the table with her hands in the dough, gave 
a grunt and said, "how gey," then looking at 
Harriet gave another grunt and again said, 
"how gey." Jesse then looked at Peggy and 
said inquiringly, "I reckon they can put their 
fixin's on the bed." Peggy said, "I allow," so 
we deposited our bonnets and cloaks on the 
"blue kiver" that kivered the bed, and then 
took our seats by the fire. Peggy seemed in- 
tent on her cooking and had nothing to say. 
Jesse told your father about his "craps," and 
evidently felt very rich; said he was "getting 
on right smart;" it had been a good mast 
year — an abundance of nuts — and his hogs 
had come out of the woods fat enough to kill. 
He thought by another winter he should be 
8i 



a 5©0man'i6? ^torp 



able to sit by the fire most of the time. Poor 
child of nature, thought I; and your wants, how- 
few. I looked around the cabin to see what 
attraction there could be for Jesse the coming 
year. Peggy was disagreeably ugly, but Jesse 
said she was good for work and that was what 
he wanted, "for, if she was dressed up, she 
couldn't look pretty, no how." 

I looked to see if there were any books 
— an old almanac, begrimmed and greasy, 
hanging against the wall, was all the litera- 
ture offered. But Jesse and Peggy "didn't 
want books; " did not think it was of "any use 
to be alius reading;" "didn't think folks was 
any better off for reading, an' books cost a heap 
and took a power of time ; " " twant so bad for 
men to read, for there was a heap of time when 
they couldn't work out, and could jest set by the 
fire ; and if a man had books and keered to read 
he mought; but women had no business to 
hurtle away their time, case they could alius find 
something to du, and there had been a heap of 
trouble in old Kaintuck with some rich men's 
gals that had learned to write. They was sent 
to school, and were high larnt, and cud write 
letters almost as well as a man, and would write 
to the young fellows, and, bless your soul, get 
a match fixed up before their father or mother 
knowed a hait about it." Such were Jesse's 
honest sentiments, and such was the standard 
of at least nine-tenths of the inhabitants that 
were our neighbors. 

82 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



Jesse's conversation was interrupted by the 
entrance of a handsome young man, dressed 
in a suit of blue broadcloth: it had been, 
probably, two years before a very genteel suit; 
but time and constant service had left their 
marks, and it required no effort of imagination 
to decide that he was white at the elbows. I 
discovered he came by invitation to meet and 
dine with us. Jesse went through the ceremony 
of introduction, then turning to Mr. Porter, 
said: "See here. Porter, I'll get you to nurse 
while I run down to the bottom of the field to 
see if the fence is all right; " and suiting the 
action to the word, dropped Matilda into Mr. 
Porter's lap. Poor Porter! he blushed, looked 
at us, looked at Matilda as if he wished her 
among the hickory logs in the big fire-place ; 
but as nothing could be said or done, he seemed 
to be i-meekly growing into submission to his 
fate, when Miss Harriet had the benevolence 
to go and relieve him of his charge, rallying 
him at the same time for his awkwardness. 

Jesse went and returned, Peggy put her last 
dish on the table, and dinner was announced. 
The table was high, coming up to our chins; 
the chairs low, and we were obliged to sit with 
our arms akimbo, in order to manage our knives 
and forks. The table was covered with a course 
cloth, five plates were set around, the sixth 
bearing the burden of Peggy's heavy biscuits; 
a teacup and iron spoon beside each plate, the 
sixth cup holding some salt, and the sixth sau- 
83 



^ l^oman'^ ^torp 



cer was for the butter. A platter with some 
fried ham and another with some honeycomb 
completed the meal. Soon the invited guests 
were all seated when Jesse, handing Matilda to 
Peggy, took the head of the table ; and Peggy, 
with the baby on her hip, took the cups from 
the table and with a tin cup filled them with 
coffee from the Dutch oven in which it had 
been made. This hot beverage, sweetened 
with maple sugar, was not to be slighted after 
our long fast. Jesse seemed happy in presid- 
ing ; praised the bacon; said "it was from a 
mighty fine shoat; that he hated mightily to 
kill it, but we can't live without bacon nohow, 
though I don't mind if I can have plenty of 
mush and milk. Peggy she says she despises 
to make mush, it is such a spite to clean the 
mushpot. When I go to the crock for milk, 
Peggy tells me to blow back the cream. Wall, 
ye see, I do it, and then dip my milk out of 
the side that has the cream." Then he 
chuckled at his own wit. Peggy meantime 
took a chair before the fire and gave baby its 
dinner. When our cups were to be replenished 
Jesse gave Peggy the watchword, who would 
take our cups to the fire and bring them back 
filled, baby nothing moved by the act. 

Well, I have told you all the particulars of 
my first dining out, and will not go into de- 
tails of another, as that was the style, and the 
best the "white folks " could do. As I had 
to accept many invitations of the kind, and 
84 



of pioneer S^Hinoi^ 



with the same etiquette, lest the neighbors 
might think us proud, you may imagine the 
pleasure I took in visiting. The Townsends 
and Sewards, New Yorkers, were the only 
families who had any better notions of what 
belonged to refinement and comfort within 
twenty miles; at Greenville were the Blanch- 
ards and Birges. 

We remained at Colonel Seward's about 
two weeks. During the time your father had 
initiated your Uncle Robert into the office, 
taken Mr. Black to Vandalia and recommended 
him to a clerkship in the Auditor's office, where 
he remained several years. Poor Black was 
in a sad plight to present himself before the 
great officials at the capital. He had but his 
last New York suit, which was sadly tattered. 
I found a coat which your father had cast 
aside because it was too small, and by brushing 
it up and making a few repairs it was quite a 
passable garment. The pantaloons did not 
suit as well; his little limbs seemed lost in their 
broad dimensions. 

"A world too wide were they for his shrunk 
shank." 

Mr. Black had the most exquisite taste and 
his clothing had been of the nicest kind, and 
he had been very fastidious about their fit. 
But all was gone, and the coarse brogans had 
to take the place of the dainty, well-polished 
boot. I should like to tell you of his first ex- 
perience while trying to become an Illinois 
85 



^ 5^oman'^ J^torp 



farmer. It is a tragic story, but if I stop to 
tell it I shall not reach St. Louis. If strength 
is spared me I will write it out with other 
things that occurred. 

I will not stop to relate any of the oddities 
of old Colonel Seward. He was always pleas- 
•ant to me, and after we were in the carriage 
starting for St. Louis he came to say he was 
sorry we could not have stayed longer and very 
confidentially told us that next week Mr. Brown 
and Harriet were going to be married. I had 
suspected that something was brewing, but 
Mrs. Seward and Harriet had hinted nothing, 
and so did not feel particularly flattered by the 
Colonel's invitation; I think, however, they 
would have been glad to have had us, but with one 
room, and company expected from St. Louis, 
what could they do } and I felt glad to relieve 
them by vacating a small corner of the cabin. 
Perhaps I will write more of the wedding, where- 
on I could hang another story. We took 
our trunks and all the paraphernalia of bur 
wanderings down to our own house, where we 
opened a trunk that had been the depository 
for our soiled clothing, having had but one 
washing done since leaving home — nearly three 
months before. I asked your father if he had 
a large trunk with a good lock, where I could 
leave things to remain undisturbed during our 
absence; he had. So I filled a bag of things 
to be washed whenever the time arrived, and 
gave it to your father to take up the ladder to 
86 



of ^^ioneer S^Ilinoi^ 



the trunk, asking again about the lock. When 
I turned around I saw, standing bolt upright, 
my tall friend, watching the bag and looking 
determined to know its contents — another tale 
to be told. 

We arrived at Rev. Jesse Townsend's about 
sunset, nine miles on our way to St. Louis. 
The family were absent, excepting Mrs. Town- 
send with her son Edwin and wife. Mr. 
Townsend had gone to Edwardsville to estab- 
lish a school; Eleazer and wife to spend the 
winter at Vandalia. The house was cheery 
and comfortable. A large family room with 
two bedrooms opening out of it, a hall with 
another small bedroom at the side, a kitchen 
separate from the house, with an awning, 
where in the summer they spread their table 
and took their meals; rooms all carpeted with 
bag carpeting, old tables and chairs brought 
from Palmyra, New York, and books in abun- 
dance. It was truly heart-cheering, and made 
me feel that there might yet be some comfort 
in living in Illinois. Mrs. Townsend the elder 
was a woman of intelligence, but had been sick, 
and was not sanguine about Illinois; Mrs. Town- 
send the younger was a sweet-tempered, loving 
woman, who probably had, from many causes, 
more reasons for repining than the mother; she 
was very cordial, and I made up my mind at 
once to like her, and never had cause to change 
my feehngs toward her. She was a Miss Dur- 
fee, from Palmyra, New York. 

87 



31 ^oman'^ef ^tarp 



We went the next day to Edwardsville, 
thirty-five miles; stopped at Major Hopkins', 
who kept hotel. The Major was a son of 
General Hopkins of northern New York, who 
had been an influential man but had lost his 
property, and had died, leaving a widow and 
two children. Miss Polly and the Major. They 
had removed to Illinois with small means for 
a beginning, but with all the feelings of dig- 
nity that their former position had given them. 
Madam was a lady of the old school, and a 
real lady; intelligent, dignified, and with most 
decidedly religious principles, which she never 
put in compromise. Miss Polly was smart 
and energetic, but with such a high seasoning 
of sarcasm that it was said she was the terror 
of all gentlemen, and maintained her own inde- 
pendent single blessedness for more than forty 
years. Her brother, the Major, was a pleas- 
ant little gentleman, with all the polish and 
civility of a Frenchman. He had married 
a Cincinnati girl, lovely-tempered and a good 
housekeeper, whose common sense and watch- 
fulness was much needed in such a family. 
At the table we met the Rev. Mr. Town- 
send, at whose house we had been entertained 
the previous night, and Hooper Warren and 
wife. Mr. Warren was editor of the Ed- 
wardsville Spectator, and had just married a 
Miss Adamson of Louisville; also a son of 
Captain Breath, of the Marine settlement, 
who afterwards became a missionary and 
88 



of pioneer 3^llinoi^ 



died in Syria* I think he was cousin to the 
Leggetts'. 

From Edwardsville we started for St. Louis, 
only twenty miles, but owing to the bad travel- 
ing did not reach the Mississippi River until 
just before sunset. The ice was running in 
the river so that the ferryboat had not been used 
for several days, and passengers were taken 
over in a skiff. Not knowing the danger to 
which we would be exposed, we went into 
the skiff, your father, myself, and a gentle- 
man who had come with us from Edwards- 
ville, and we were pushed off into the mighty 
river. Two men acted as rowers, while two 
others stood with long poles to turn aside 
the huge piles of ice which would at times 
rush upon the boat, and it seemed as if noth- 
ing could save us, and while one was being 
shoved away another would be bearing down 
and stop all movement. The boatmen — if I 
had not previously heard from Brice Hanna, 
the finishing of all profanity — I should have 
thought the most wicked and hardened men I 
had ever met, swearing at each other and swear- 
ing at the great banks of ice, challenging each 
as they came in contact with our boat to keep 
out of the way or they would send them to a 
place "whar" ice did not grow. 

When we arrived at St. Louis people would 

hardly believe that we had crossed the river 

that day, as it was at the risk of hfe to make 

the attempt, and I began to more fully reaHze 

89 



31 Woman'^ J>tor:p 



the danger through which we had passed; and 
now, when I look back and think of the hair- 
breadth escapes I was carried through in my 
early journeyings, it leads me to inquire for 
what purpose and end was I spared? I have 
been but an unprofitable servant in the vineyard 
of Him whom I have proposed to serve. 

We spent about two weeks in St. Louis, 
putting up at Mrs. Paddock's, who kept a 
boarding house. She was from Middleborough, 
Massachusetts. Her husband was on a farm in 
Illinois and a part of the family were with him, 
while Madame Paddock presided over the St. 
Louis establishment . They had eight daughters 
and one son, the youngest child, then a lad in a 
store in St. Louis, afterwards a merchant at 
Springfield, Illinois, where Mrs. Enos, one of 
the daughters, lived. Mr. Enos^^ was appointed 
receiver of public moneys under John Quincy 

^5 Pascal P. Enos was a citizen of Connecticut who 
came west to Cincinnati in 1815 and the followinjj 
year continued his migration to St. Charles, Missouri. 
From 1817 to 1821 he lived in St. Louis, removing 
thence to Madison County, Illinois, six miles north 
of Edwardsville. Mr. Enos was appointed by Presi- 
dent Monroe receiver of the land ofQce for the San- 
gamon district. In 1823 he joined with Elijah lies, 
John Taylor, and Thomas Cox in entering land and 
laying out a townsite to which the name " Calhoun" 
was given. For some reason this name was soon dis- 
placed by that of "Springfield." Mr. Enos died at 
Springfield, which he had thus helped to found, in 
1832. His wife was living at Springfield as late as 
1874, being then in her eighty-fifth year. 
90 



of pioneer ^FHinoi^ 



Adams, to whom he was said to bear a strong 
personal likeness. His. daughter, Miss Enos, 
married Mr. Hatch of Springfield. William 
Porter, who nursed Peggy's baby, was employed 
by Mr. Enos as a clerk in his office, a situation 
more adapted to his style than holding babies. 
At St. Louis everything seemed strange, and 
to me new. The gentlemen were from every 
part of the Union, and those with whom 
I met were indeed gentlemen, and there was 
occasionally to be found a lady, mostly from 
among the eastern emigration. The French 
Catholic ladies, with their heaps of expensive 
finery and a darkey to attend them whenever 
they went into the street, were to me a subject 
of study, and the more I studied the more pre- 
judiced I became. At the table I met the 
three brothers Kerr; they were all single, but 
afterwards married, and we always kept up an 
acquaintance with them, particularly Mr. and 
Mrs. Augustus Kerr. Mrs. Kerr was a very 
lovely lady — a Philadelphian. . They visited 
us when you were not quite a year old and Mr. 
Kerr, who was foolishly fond of children and 
had none of his own, said he had seen nothing 
in Boston he cared to appropriate unless it was 
the baby girl of mine. Mr. Elliot was another 
with whom I became acquainted. He kept a 
large store for St. Louis at that time, and I 
purchased my crockery of him. After we had 
made our purchases he invited us into the back 
room, a kind of sitting room. There was a table 

91 



a l^oman'^ J^torp 



in the middle of the room, with wine, oranges, 
nuts, coffee, and all the nice things the market 
afforded. It was a preparation for us. He 
had known your father, and seemed also to 
take a "mighty liking" to his wife; hence 
the parade. 

One day I wanted something from the store 
and went to Mr. Clemens, on the same street 
with my boarding house, made my purchase, 
took my small parcel, and was turning to go 
out, when Mr. Clemens inquired if I was un- 
attended. Finding I was, he took his hat, 
whirled himself over the counter, and escorted 
me to Mrs. Paddock's door. I thought it a 
stretch of southern politeness, but later I knew 
more of the habits of the St. Louisians, and 
that only a few years before the red men had 
been occupants of the country around, and that 
their visits were still frequent and unceremoni- 
ous, not bringing the southern gallantry to ladies 
to bear on their advances. Pretty squaw was 
their most gracious salutation, and that only 
when they discovered some trinket about a 
lady's dress that they wished to appropriate, 
and which was often obtained by dint of flattery. 
Mr. Clemens was at that time a suitor of Miss 
Julia Paddock's, who was a great beauty and 
the flower of the family. She did not accept 
the heart and hand of Mr. Clemens, but after- 
wards married Mr. B., of Springfield. Mr. 
Clemens married into the rich Mullanphy fam- 
ily, where with his broad acres, his negroes, 
92 



of pioneer 3^Hinoi^ 



and his French CathoHc wife, he became ab- 
sorbed in his own circle, and has not mixed 
with the American population since. 

Mr. John Warburton was also a boarder in 
the house, and being a Connecticut Yankee we 
became acquainted and continued a friendly 
intercourse through his life. He died a few 
years ago at Hartford, his native place, having 
amassed quite a fortune and sustained a high 
character as a business man and as a decided 
Christian gentleman. 

The first Sabbath after we arrived a hand- 
some young gentleman called and invited us 
to attend church. We accepted the invitation 
and went with him to a small building on Fourth 
Street, considered at that time a little out in 
the country. The room was used for a Pres- 
byterian church on the Sabbath, and was the 
only one in St. Louis. The preacher was 
Rev. Salmon Giddings, a graduate of Williams 
College, where he had also been a tutor. ^^ He 

^^The Rev. Salmon Giddings, a Connecticut man, 
was the founder of Presbyterianism in St. Louis. 
Appointed a missionary, he rode horseback i,200 
miles in the winter of 1815-16, arriving at St. Louis 
in April, 1816. Before his death in 1828 he had organ- 
ized many Presbyterian churches in the city (the first 
in November, 1817) and gained a remarkable hold on 
its population. His funeral was attended by 2,000 
people, half the population of the city. When the 
First Presbyterian church was dedicated in 1855, a 
funeral hymn was sung immediately after the sermon, 
and during the singing Rev. Mr. Giddings' body was 
carried in and deposited in a vault beneath the pulpit. 

93 



a l^oman'^ ^torp 



was then a bachelor, but afterwards the hus- 
band of Miss Almira Collins and the father of 
Frederic Giddings of Quincy. Mr. Giddings 
used the room on the Sabbath, and through the 
week our escort — who was no other than 
Henry H. Snow, afterwards of Quincy — pre- 
sided over a school of young ladies. These 
young misses were from the aristocratic fam- 
ilies of St. Louis and Mr. Snow — a handsome 
young man and a fine singer — was quite a 
favorite among them. He led the singing at 
the church. Mrs. Paddock, who in her young 
days had been a singer, and was still fond of 
music, invited Mr. Snow several times to her 
house to meet your father, and one evening 
had quite a company, apologizing to the south- 
ern guests for getting up, instead of a dance, 
a psalm-singing, explaining that psalm-singing 
was a Yankee amusement. 

The Paddocks were smart, 'excellent house- 
keepers; knew how to make their household 
arrangements comfortable and elegant; could 
converse sensibly, appeared well at a dance, 
were kind to friends, but horribly severe upon 
what they termed Yankee bigotry in matters 
of religion. They called themselves Univer- 
salists, and I am sorry to say did not do much 
to honor their Puritan training." The next 
Sabbath we went to a little Methodist chapel, 
the only Protestant place of worship in St. 
Louis with the exception of Judge Snow's 
school-room. The pulpit was supplied by an 
94 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



English gentleman named Keyte, who preached 
Methodism on Sunday and sold goods through 
the week. He was of the firm of Tiffany & 
Keyte. Mr. Tiffany was from Attleboro, Mass- 
achusetts; he afterwards moved to Baltimore, 
and is the father of the Rev. Mr. Tiffany of 
Chicago. Tiffany and Keyte sustained a good 
reputation both as business men and Christians. 

When we left St. Louis we took with us a 
servant girl — a "Kaintuck" — and arrived at 
our place of abode on the afternoon of Janu- 
ary 3. I am tired now, and must take a rest, 
and then will try to look into our house as it 
presented itself on that memorable afternoon 
of January 3, 1823. 

After Mr. Black had left the office, and 
during our absence, William Loomis, a car- 
penter, had been employed to build a flight of 
stairs in one corner of the room, in place of 
the ladder, and to finish the kitchen. He was 
to board at Jesse Buzan's and to sleep at the 
house with Robert. The management worked 
well for a while, but for some reason they 
decided to give up boarding and keep * 'bach- 
elor's hall." They had managed to get a 
Dutch oven and a frying pan, the former for 
baking their corn bread and the frying pan for 
cooking their meat; they had roasted their 
potatoes in the ashes. They had a cow, which 
furnished them with milk and butter. They 
managed the dairy by taking one of the large, 
square bottles that had been left by Simpson, 
95 



a ^oman'^ ^torp 



and filling it with milk, set it aside for drinking. 
Then they took another bottle to hold what 
was called the strippings — the richest part, 
containing the cream. First I should have 
said having no milk-pail, they had milked from 
the cow into the bottle. Their process of 
turning the "strippings" to butter, was to sit 
and shake the bottle, Loomis shaking until he 
was tired and then passing it over to Robert, 
who took his turn. When the butter * *kum, ' ' 
as Loomis termed it, they salted it with some 
of the Rountree salt, and using the buttermilk 
as a beverage, they sat down to what Loomis 
called a most onexcellent meal. 

However "onexcellent" their meals might 
have been, surely elegance did not reign in the 
cabin. In the center of the room stood the 
work-bench, and the floor was covered with 
shavings about a foot deep. Loomis, good 
soul! was always kind and obliging, but his 
infirmity it was to have an imaginary story to 
tell when the truth would have been quite as 
convenient. He began by saying that they 
had expected us home every night for the last 
week and had swept the floor and put every- 
thing in good order for our reception, produc- 
ing a broom that they had manufactured. But 
that day they had been out to get more tallow 
for making candles. Your father remarked 
that he had made a good many shavings in one 
day, besides so much candle and butter making. 
Loomis looked confused and went on to clean 
96 



of pioneer ^Fllinoi^ 



the room. Loomis and Robert took down the 
work-bench and removed it to the kitchen, while 
I, in my green traveHng-dress and hood, with 
broom in hand made war upon the swamp of 
shavings that still carpeted the puncheon floor. 
Your father in the meantime had gone over to 
Shurtleff's, and bought a shoulder of pork. 
He brought it home just as the teams from 
St. Louis arrived with — in western phrase — 
our plunder. 

The room was cleaned, and we were in a 
fair way to get up another "onexcellent " 
supper, when Loomis told us they had used 
the last candle the night before, but there was 
some deer tallow and some wicking he had got 
from old Davy's, and some molds he had 
brought with himself. So cooking operations 
were suspended. I arranged the wick on the 
moulds, while Joicy, the girl we had brought 
with us, was melting the deer tallow in the 
frying pan at the fire-place. The moulds were 
soon filled and set by the door to cool, and 
Joicy washed the frying pan and commenced 
the cooking process. I managed with the 
help of Loomis to get a box opened and to 
find enough dishes to put on the table, cov- 
ered with some clean newspapers instead of a 
damask, and while the candles were getting 
harder we were softening our hungry appetites 
by a good cup of coifee, the last of a canister 
of ground coffee put into my lunch bag by my 
good mother when I left home; also the last 
97 



a 5^oman'^ ^torp 



of a little bag of sugar from the same careful 
provider. Loomis had slipped down to Jesse's 
and brought a tin cup of Peggy's cream, and 
with the fried pork and roasted potatoes, some 
bread we had brought from St. Louis, and the 
butter that the boys had ** shuck" from the 
"strippings," we had a meal most refreshing, 
however homely. 

f' Before leaving home your grandfather put 
up a box for me, of such things as would be 
comfortable and proper in a log house. There 
were three bed ticks with bolster and pillow 
ticks to match, ready to be filled, the feathers 
sent in a bale by themselves. I had also 
bedding, a roll of common carpeting, table and 
bed linen sufficient for a beginning, a set of 
waiters, knives and forks, and our housekeep- 
ing conveniences, which together with my 
winter clothing and, indeed, all that I had 
excepting what I brought with me on my 
seven weeks' trip over the mountains, we had 
shipped in October, two weeks before we 
started ourselves, and expected to find them 
at St. Louis on our arrival there. But what 
was our disappointment at finding that the. 
boat on which they had been shipped from 
New Orleans had not been heard from. So 
I not only found myself lacking in household 
goods, but minus my winter garments. So I 
had bought for myself a brown bombazine 
dress, and some blue and white domestic 
check to make a morning dress for my log 
98 



of ^ioncet S^llinoi^ 



establishment, and with the help and advice of 
the Misses Paddock, had fitted and made them. 
On inquiring the price of furniture we found 
it extremely high, and hoping, ,what then 
appeared to be hopeless, that I might get the 
box which had been sent, felt unwilling to buy 
anything it contained that I could possibly do 
without. Fortunately we heard of a Mrs. 
Bright who had lost her husband and was sell- 
ing off her furniture preparatory to returning 
to Philadelphia. Hither we repaired, and 
bought two cherry tables that matched, and 
formed a dining table with circular ends. 
Here we bought a large bedstead with feather 
bed, bolster, and pillows, a small washstand, and 
looking-glass for our bedroom, a work table, 
and six chairs. As we were leaving the house, 
Mrs. Bright, pointing to a large basket she had 
packed to be sold at auction, said the articles 
contained could not be bought for ten dollars, 
but she did not expect they would bring much. 
Without looking at the things, we offered her 
five dollars, which quite pleased her and was 
a fortunate purchase for us. I saw on the top a 
knife basket and something that looked like 
knives and forks, and so thought it best to secure 
the basket and save the expense of these need- 
fuls. I bought in St. Louis, also, a piece of 
furniture patch, some domestic cotton for a com- 
fortable, a blue dining-set, and a china tea-set ; 
was about to buy some table-cloths, but found 
that such table linen as could be purchased in 

99 



31 ^oman'^ ^torp 



Massachusetts for seventy-five cents a yard 
was selling in St. Louis for three dollars; so I 
hoped again for my box and concluded to wait 
— a tale to be told about the table-cloth. 

To go back to the first night spent under our 
own roof, I recollect that the candles became 
hard enough to be pulled from the moulds. 
Four large nails with their points driven into a 
square block of wood served as one candlestick, 
the other was supplied by paper being wound 
around the candle and then inserted into the neck 
of a glass bottle; this made quite a display. 
When our neighbor had departed and we had 
lighted up for the evening we all owned up to 
feeling very tired; so after getting Simpson's 
mattress spread on the bed-room floor, with 
all the loose coverings of old shawls and clothes 
we could muster, we resigned Joicy to her rest. 
Two buffalo robes spread on the floor — where 
a few hours before had stood the work-bench, 
and between which Loomis and Robert packed 
themselves with their coats for pillows — fin- 
ished up our sleeping arrangements. 

The next morning we commenced unpacking; 
do not remember much about it ; only how rich 
I felt when I descended into the depths of Mrs. 
Bright's clothes basket, where I found knives 
and forks, iron spoons, two nice sauce-pans, 
graters, baking tins, spittoons, and many other 
things that came in play and were useful. Be- 
fore night we had another bedstead put up for 
Robert and Loomis, and the old cot set up in 

100 



of pioneer 2fHtnoi^ 



the loft for Joicy. Hired a bed and quilt from 
Mr. Rountree, with whom we had expected to 
board. When we sent for the bed we found 
they had been blessed with a son, which ex- 
plained their hasty retreat from our dwelling. 

A few years later I was present at the chris- 
tening of the children by a Methodist minister; 
the ceremony was performed at their own 
home. Their names were Hiram Hawkins 
Rountree, Aaron Hubbard Rountree, Emily 
Alfine Hawkins Rountree — who afterwards 
married Mr. Shumway — was the mother of 
Hiram, who married Ellen Holmes. They 
had also a John, with two or three other names 
attached. 

Mr. Rountree was a man of education, and 
in the earlier times in Illinois was considered 
a great linguist. Mrs. Rountree was a woman 
of excellent common sense, a good Christian, 
and of a most amiable temper; might have 
taken a higher stand in society had she been 
educated. 

One day there had been some goods brought 
from St. Louis, a part of which were for Mr. 
Rountree; he came for them and your father 
was out. He seemed disappointed that he 
could not know the amount that had been paid 
for them, and although not ready to settle the 
bill, would like to know the cost. I looked 
and found the bill of the St. Louis merchant, 
which was receipted. He perused it approv- 
ingly, and then in a patronizing manner, 

lOI 



^ ^oman'^ ^torp 



asked **if I knew where Mr. Tillson kept his 
account book? Would I bring it to him; he 
would make the charge." I found the book 
and asked him for the bill, which quite puzzled 
him, and he again repeated what he wanted 
to do, but I, as if to save him the trouble, com- 
menced making the charges myself. He looked 
with blank amazement at my performance. At 
last when he could bear it no longer he jumped 
up and looking over my shoulder, said, "Why 
I had no idea you were such a scribe," — my 
scribbling then being somewhat better than 
my pencilings now — "and you have made the 
charges correctly." 

I had some ambition to show off a little, 
being aware that the "white folks," though 
very friendly when I met them, were much 
perplexed to know what Tillson' s wife found 
to do. She didn't spin nor weave, and had 
that little Dutch girl, and the men helped her 
to milk. They had hearn that she sot up nights 
to help Tillson write, but that wasn't much, 
no how ; never seed her in the ' * truck patch ; ' ' 
didn't believe she knowed how to hoe. I have 
made quite a digression in speaking of Mr. 
Rountree and family, and in describing them I 
give the bearing and lordliness of those from 
slave-holding states. If they had slaves the 
authority was exercised over them;- if not, 
the wife was the willing slave ; perhaps not so 
much from fear as from want of knowing any- 
thing to assert. There would occasionally be 

102 



of ^ionect S^llinoi^ 



one like Mrs. Kilpatrick who could advance her 
own opinions. 

The first few months' housekeeping was 
made uncomfortable by the Sunday visiting. 
We had no regular preaching, and with my 
new beginnings in domestic duties and the 
evenings — two in each week — which I devoted 
in copying letters for your father, I found but 
little time for reading. The eastern mail came 
in once in two weeks, and your father being 
postmaster he usually had papers in every mail 
from all directions, and although they would 
be weeks in reaching us they brought the latest 
intelligence from the civilized world and were 
about all I could find time to read during the 
week. . I tried to have Sunday for books, when 
I did not go to ** preaching," which time, I 
felt, was spent without profit and instruction, 
and but for example's sake would have pre- 
ferred a quiet day at home. 

But there were no such Sundays for me. 
By the time our breakfast was over and our 
morning work disposed of there would be a 
tremendous knocking at the door, accompanied 
by sonorous demands of "who keeps the 
house } ' ' Sometimes with the knocking would 
come, "housekeepers within.?" sometimes 
nothing but a loud, drawling, "h-o-u-s-e- 
k-e-e-p-e-r-^s! " and when the door was opened 
a backwoodsman would walk in with a big baby 
on his arm, followed by his wife with the 
youngest in both her arms, would introduce his 
103 



31 Wcman'^ ^torp 



lady, and let us know they had come for a 
day's visit; thinking I was ** strange ones 'ere, " 
they reckoned they ought to get acquainted. 
Being few — either male or female — who wore 
any out-door garments, the women wore their 
bonnets in the house and added nothing on go- 
ing out but a little shawl that came about to the 
bottom of the waist, said waist being a very 
short one. I suppose, living as they did in 
cabins without windows and keeping both doors 
open for the admittance of light — windows 
and out of doors was all the same to them in 
respect to warmth — and having come from a 
more southern climate, they had never learned 
the necessity of protection from the cold. 

I think during the first three months there 
was rarely a Sunday when we were not called 
on to entertain some of these families, who 
came as if to a show, and would go about the 
house taking up things and ask, "wharfs this 
'ere fixin.?" open the closet and ask how we 
sold plates. When informed they were not 
for sale, could not see why we "wanted such a 
mighty lot," "never seed so many together, 
reckoned they cost a heap." The most amus- 
ing thing would be their remarks at the table, 
and their petting the children before coming to 
the table. "Hush up, honey, and be good; see 
thar, Auntee Tillson is gwine to have dinner 
right sure. Reckon she'll have some sweet- 
ened bread, cake, and all them pretty dishes. " 
When they had satisfied their appetites and 
104 



of pioneer S^Ilinoi^ 



taken a final smoke they would make a move 
to depart, and invite us to go and spend Sun- 
day with them. We would thank them, and 
say we would go to see them some week day, 
we did not visit on the Sabbath. We felt we 
were very fortunate in breaking up the practice 
without offending them. Of all our Sunday 
visitors, I think but one ever repeated the 
visit on that day, and though they were very 
jealous and suspicious I never knew of any 
offense being given. 

From the first of January until April there 
was little change. The mail was brought in 
once in two weeks. The mail carrier would 
arrive on Monday night about sunset, leave 
the mail for Montgomery County, and proceed 
as far as Colonel Seward's on his way to 
Springfield, that being the northern terminus 
of the mail route. Our evenings after receiv- 
ing the mail were the busiest of all others, 
your father opening and reading his letters 
while I regaled myself with the three or four 
weeks' old eastern newspapers. The carrier 
returned on Thursday for the eastern mail. 
Your father's business had become quite 
extensive, and as it was mostly done through 
correspondence with eastern landholders he 
received a large amount of letters, and he 
generally answered as many as was in his power 
during the two days that the carrier was gone 
north. He kept a letter-book into which were 
copied all the letters sent from the office, and 
105 



a ®oman'^ ^torp 



the task was sometimes pretty arduous. Your 
Uncle Robert would commence in the morn- 
ing and work diligently, but it was impossible 
to keep up with your father's rapid penman- 
ship, so, as all the letters had to go into one 
book and I was a fast writer, it became my 
privilege to wield the pen in the evening. 
The evenings were long and not unfrequently 
would we find ourselves among the small hours 
of Thursday morning ere our last letter was 
disposed of and our Wednesday evening's work 
ended. 

rSfter we had been about a month at house- 
keeping Joel Wright, who had been on an ex- 
ploring trip through the northern part of the 
state, returned. As his cabin was closed he 
wanted to stay with us through the winter, or 
until he could get a family into his house with 
whom he could board; so we took him in. We 
then had heard nothing of our bedding sent 
by way of New Orleans, but were weekly 
hoping that we should. So as we were not 
abundantly supplied, I undertook the business 
of making a comfortable. For the outside I 
had the material, but where, O where, was the 
cotton to be found! I knew everybody had 
their "cotton patches" and raised their own 
cotton, but in trying to buy, found that they 
only picked it from the seed in small quantities. 
While I was puzzling myself what to do, Mr. 
Wright brought from his farm some twenty 
pounds of cotton in the seed; when separated, ^^ 
1 06 



i 



of l^ioncer S^llinoi^ 



two-thirds would be seed and the remaining 
third cotton. I then commenced the arduous 
task of separating the cotton from the seed, 
and after much labor and wear and tear of 
fingers I succeeded in getting enough to fill a 
comfortable. It had to be carded and made 
into bats before it could be used, and fortu- 
nately my maid-of-all-work knew how to card. 
But the cards: where were they to be found? 
After much inquiry I heard of some one who 
was willing to lend her "kairds" to a Yankee 
woman. So the cotton was carded, after 
about a week's labor by Joicy, and meanwhile 
Loomis had made a quilting frame and the 
great affair of making a comfortable was 
accomplished. The neighbors came in to see 
it. They had "heirn" that Tillson's wife had 
borrowed kairds, "but reckoned she did'nt 
know how to spin a draw," and "couldn't 
think what she could do with kairds." 

March at last came after a cheerless winter, 
and with it the news that our boxes and pack- 
ages were at the mouth of the Ohio River, 
where they had been lying all winter while the 
boat on which they were shipped had been 
undergoing repairs. Another thing to relieve 
the monotony was the commencement of an 
addition to our log house, to consist of two 
rooms — a parlor and bedroom. They were 
to be framed, and joined to the log house on 
the north. We also had our kitchen chimney 
built and a small window put in, so that in April 
107 



a l^oman'^ ^torp 



we moved our cooking utensils into the new 
establishment. It stood about five feet from 
the main house and a roof extended across, 
making a shelter from sun and rain; a plat- 
form to pass over was also made. The "white 
folks" thought we had a "power of room," 
and 'were "power down well fixed." 

Just before we were ready for the occupancy 
of the kitchen, our Joicy thought she must go 
back to St. Louis. She liked to live with us. 
We had been * * right good ' ' to her, she said, but 
she never lived in one place but a few weeks 
before. She moaned — longed for a change. 
Poor Joicy! she could not read, but was of 
high blood and bearing; said her mother was a 
cousin of Henry Clay's, and when she married 
Tarley, Joicy's father, who was a drinker, her 
relations did not own her and her father kept 
getting poorer-poorer, and the children got no 
"larnin." She had a pretty face. Her ward- 
robe consisted, besides shoes and stockings, of 
a green flannel petticoat, a calico dress, a white 
dress, and a checked apron, in all four pieces. 
When she came from St. Louis she wore her 
white dress over her calico, which was not in 
good taste ; the stripes and figures of the calico 
showing unbecomingly through the thin texture 
of the white cambric; but when, about once 
a week, she would drop her calico to be washed, 
and put on her white over her green skirt, with 
no lining above her waist but what nature had 
provided, and then to see her sit down on the 
1 08 



of pioneer S^Ilinoi^ 



floor with her lap full of potatoes and turnips 
and peal them for cooking, with the green 
shading of her dress below and the pinkie 
development above, she presented a picture I 
cannot describe. 

So in April I found myself mistress of all 
work, with our family of four getting on quite 
systematically. In order to secure Loomis for 
our building purposes we were obliged to make 
him one of our family, and it was only by dint 
of close management that we could keep him 
at his work. There were so few carpenters in 
the country that every one who wanted a door 
for his cabin would come to Loomis, and he 
would always promise to do their work for 
them. Poor Loomis, he was good-natured 
and could not say no to any request, and while 
we were waiting with impatience at the slow 
progress of our house, we had to shut our eyes 
to the little affairs such as shelves or window 
sash that were being made for some "Sucker's" 
cabin. If we offended him our last chance 
for a workman would be at an end; and we 
had to see the building materials that had been 
brought sixty miles for our house appropriated 
to the use of others. Loomis had a weakness 
for military promotion and was eager to secure 
the good will of the settlers. His efforts were 
crowned with success when the next year he 
was commissioned Major William Loomis. It 
was more honor than his poor, weak humanity 
could bear, and while he expanded our work 
109 



a ^oman'i^ ^totp 



lagged, but there was nothing but patience and 
endurance for our deliverance. 

For about two months I had no servant 
and Loomis used to get up and make a rousing 
fire, draw a bucket of cold water from the 
deep well, and Robert would go out and milk 
the two cows while I prepared the breakfast, 
and though it is but my own humble opinion, 
I think the cabin was as cleanly and orderly as 
any other that came within my inspection. I 
used to have black Eda come every week to 
do my washing, which she would stay and 
finish up unless she ''felt a hurtin' in head," 
or "mightily like ager," and then she would 
leave her clothes in tubs and go "hum," the 
finishing and cleaning up falling to my share. 

In April your father went to Vandalia and on 
his return brought a little Dutch girl, the best 
thing, he said, that he could find, and Oh! 
thought I. But to the girl. She rode on the 
horse behind your father. She had on a Ger- 
man blue calico dress, with a handkerchief 
tied over her head and another hung on her 
arm, in which was her wardrobe. They arrived 
about noon, under a scorching sun. She had 
light — nearly white — hair, with large, goggle, 
black eyes, while her skin was as fair as an 
infant's; the ride, however, of twenty-eight 
miles under a hot sun and without a bonnet 
had changed her face from white to red, which, 
with her startling eyes, gave her a somewhat 
terrific appearance. She said she was "dur- 

IIO 



of pioneer ^FHtnoi^ 



deen" (thirteen) years old, and could do a 
heaper of work before she had the agy; said 
she had a big agy cake — enlargement of the 
liver — but could vork most uls well as ever. 
From her size I should not have thought her 
more than ten years old. I gave her some 
dinner, and then sent her to bed to get rested, 
trusting to the future to see whether I really had 
** help, "or more to take care of. The poor 
thing, when rested, took hold of work with a 
cheerful willingness, and with such perfect 
neatness and faithfulness that I felt I had in 
her a treasure. 

About this time came court week, the first 
court that had been held, after my arrival. 
After breakfast, as your father was starting 
for the court house, two miles distant, he told 
me he should invite Starr and Mills home to 
dinner, and having the addition of a Baptist 
minister from Maine, who had quartered him- 
self upon us, I had the table set for eight, 
with ample provisions for that number. But 
what was my astonishment when instead of the 
two invited guests they kept up the cavalcade 
until fourteen had dismounted in front of the 
house. Someone had told them that we were 
to dine the court that day, and without wait- 
ing for an invitation they pushed on, as hun- 
gry men would instinctively do. The first 
thing for me was to repair to the kitchen and 
put • Doris in the way of preparing a dish 
of ham and eggs. Then, in the presence of 
III 



^ ^oman'^ ^torp 



all the bar, with Doris' help I lengthened the 
table, and with much planning and squeezing 
succeeded in getting their honors around the 
board. The chickens, which would have been 
all-satisfying on my first table, dwindled into 
insignificance on my lengthened board. The 
vegetables were dealt out sparingly, but thanks 
to ham and eggs my distinguished guests 
seemed full and happy. My poor pot pudding 
I had made with such care and satisfaction, 
and the exquisite sauce, its accompaniment, 
was most sparingly divided, much to my mys- 
tification. There was some consolation in 
perceiving that some of the gentlemen had 
discovered the mistake of intention, and were 
not a little mortified at their position. 

The court-week entertainment brings to 
mind another personage, the * * down east" Bap- 
tist preacher who came to us one Saturday after- 
noon, tired and jaded, his business being to 
inquire about a section of land. Your father 
invited him to stay until Monday, much to my 
inconvenience, as I could not think for some 
time how or where I should deposit him for the 
night. But being decent looking, and profess- 
ing Godliness — two things which did not abound 
in our neighborhood — I felt disposed to extend 
whatever hospitality I could. On Sunday he 
went with us to the Hard-shell Baptist meeting, 
and was invited to preach. Comparing him 
with Father Street, he was quite an orator^ 
though I had a wicked feeling that he had a 

112 



of ^ioneet S^Uinoi^ 



better capacity for committing and repeating 
other ministers' sermons than for composing 
himself. Monday he was sick, threatened with 
ague, continued to grow sicker; and while I 
was hoping and watching for his departure, 
your father informed me that Plummer was a 
carpenter by trade, had followed that calling 
until called to preach the Gospel; that he had 
proposed to remain a while and do some car- 
penter work that we were needing, and he had 
agreed to employ him. O dear! thought I, 
what can I do ? but as the bargain was com- 
pleted, I, of course, had nothing to do but 
acquiesce. A gleam of hope came in to take off 
some of the disagreeable in thinking that our 
rooms, of which we were sadly in want, might 
thus be finished by September. Judge of my 
chagrin when your father told me that Plum- 
mer had been telling him of a new cheese-press 
that would work admirably, and as we were milk- 
ing seven cows it was a pity not to have a dairy. 
Your father seemed quite elated with the plan. 
He knew nothing of the outlay for the utensils 
needed in cheese-making, nor the labof it would 
bring upon me. I had no other help than little 
Doris, who, poor thing ! would work until after 
she had washed her dinner dishes and made 
her kitchen quite clean, and then get into her 
cot, rolling herself up hke a caterpillar, and 
asking me to ** woke me up 'ginst supper time 
comes." 

About this time William Porter came to us 

113 



a l^oman'^ ^torp 



sick, having chills and fever every other day. 
Our family then consisted — besides your father, 
Uncle Robert, and myself — of Loomis, Porter, 
Plummer, and Horn, who worked on the farm; 
six hungry men to be fed three times a day; 
besides which your father had told all but Por- 
ter that they could have their washing done in 
the house, and my compassion for Porter — 
who was of another style from the rest — con- 
strained me to take care of him. Plummer, 
besides his mechanical skill and clerical accom- 
plishments, professed great taste in gardening; 
he had brought some seeds from New England 
and as a matter of favor had planted them in 
our garden. When he asked your father to 
go out and look at the growth of his plants — 
and which meant besides to hear a long horti- 
cultural discourse — he would be turned over 
to me, as it was something that interested 
women more than men. Plummer had a fond- 
ness for inviting company, and would ask the 
youngest of the settlement to come to see him. 
On such occasions, as also when we had any 
company, he would ascend to the loft (his 
dormitory) and doffing his carpenter's garb, 
come down with a gown on, and preside with 
all the dignity of a bishop. Every day he 
grew more and more odious to me; I expressed 
it to your father, who admitted that he was dis- 
agreeable, but exhorted me to better discipline 
my feelings and not be annoyed by what I 
could not remedy. 

114 



of pioneer S^Hinoi^ 



One day your father came home with a 
most woeful tale which was in circulation in 
the settlement, and thought we had better 
send him away. I had long considered him 
a weak-minded, conceited fop, and his reli- 
gion put on. As I was less prone then than 
now to show respect where I could not feel it 
and not so to smother contempt when dis- 
gusted, the parson had long perceived that I 
at least did not reverence him, however dull 
his perceptive powers were in other directions. 
Your father did not tell him the cause of his 
dismissal, but that as our family was large it 
would not be convenient for him to remain 
longer, at which his ire was kindled and he 
said he saw where the shoe pinched, throwing 
all the responsibility and blame on me. 

About that time James Black (afterwards 
Colonel Black) sent us word that he was sick, 
and should die unless he could get out of 
Vandalia, another matter of duty before us, 
but lest he should die and his life be required 
at our hands, we sent for him to come. Our 
family was made much pleasanter by the ex- 
change of guests. Our neighbor S., who hated 
Black and Porter next to the Tillsons, made 
himself busy in making low and vulgar remarks 
about our keeping those lazy drones about us. 

The last of August had come ; our chimney 

of logs had been removed to make way for 

one of brick, which was to serve for both the 

new frame and the log part of the house. 

115 



91 ^oman'^ J^torp 



There had been a contract for bricks; they 
were to be dehvered on the first of September; 
a man in Greenville was to furnish them. 
Think of our consternation when, at the time 
he was to deliver them, he coolly let us know 
that he had given up brick-making, and there 
were none to be obtained within forty miles. 
There was but one alternative, viz : to get 
brickmakers and have a brickyard made at the 
bottom of our garden, which was speedily com- 
menced and rapidly pushed forward. All the 
men having to be fed at our table, we could 
do no other way. 

Saturday, September 14, 1823, Bird, the 
head brickman, pronounced the bricks suffi- 
ciently baked, nothing but to have them cool 
enough to handle, and then a new chimney to 
be commenced, a bright and cheering announce- 
ment. A silver hning from under the dark cloud 
that had overshadowed me, I with a light heart 
went to work, and with the aid of Doris 
accomplished wonders in the cake and pie'line, 
Doris occasionally reminding me that it was 
Saturday and that the kitchen would need '*a 
helper; " heap of cleaning, and that hepertins 
to scrub, and "heper oder tings to do first we 
make supper." My work accomplished, I left 
Doris to her loved task of polishing every tin, 
and making clean every inch of the little log 
kitchen, and putting things in order for God's 
day, as she called the Sabbath. Her health 
had greatly improved, and with it her usefulness. 
116 



of pioneer S^liinoiief 



Our family was now reduced to six, Loomis 
having gone to perform some of his promised 
labor, and Mr. Black had been invited to spend 
a week in the Rev. Jesse Townsend's family, 
much to my relief. Just before tea time W. H. 
Brown, who with his wife had been passing the 
summer at her father's, rode up, with Harriet 
behind him, on horseback. There was to be a 
**big meeting" in Bond County. 

It was then the practice in the Presbyterian 
church, while the country was so sparsely settled, 
to have at each communion a two days' meeting 
commencing on Friday night and continuing 
through the Sabbath. Ministers from different 
parts of the country were present, and to the 
Gospel-loving portion it was a profitable season. 
To the young girls and boys, a display of their 
best garments was perhaps the absorbing weak- 
ness; but the unscrupulousness of the politi- 
cians, who attended these meetings with no 
other motive than the purpose of electioneering 
for themselves or their friends, was not to my 
taste. Mr. Brown had brought his wife to stay 
with me, while he with your father would go to 
the Lauthlin settlement, sixteen miles distant, 
to attend the meeting. Mr. Brown was not 
the7i a Christian man, but was led by politics 
and worldly gain ; still, he looked quite satisfied 
when he told your father he would like to go 
with him to the big meeting. Judge Enos, who 
had been to Washington and had been appointed 
receiver of public moneys for the Sangamon 
117 



at 5©oman'^ ^torp 



District, and was returning by way of Mont- 
gomery to take Wm. Porter as his clerk, also 
came. Porter had been sick, and for several 
months had no other home than ours, and 
without the means of paying for a dose of 
medicine. We had become much interested in 
him, and although the arrival of another guest 
sadly interfered with my limited arrangements, 
yet the prospect for him was so encouraging 
that I went with a light heart to the loft, where 
I prepared a cleanly bed for the Judge on one 
of the rude bedsteads; the other was left for 
Robert and Porter, and another made on the 
floor for brickmaker Bird. 

After our guests had retired for the night 
and we were about to lie down a loud thump- 
ing came at the kitchen door, and Loomis' 
voice demanding admittance, with Doris' per- 
sistent refusal to let him in, arrested our atten- 
tion. Your father went to the door and found 
his neighbor, Joel Wright, holding by the mane 
a sick horse, while he and Loomis each had a 
bundle of herbs. I had been feeling a relief 
from the absence of Loomis that evening, both 
on account of his uncontrollable loquacity, as 
well as being spared from witnessing the sad 
havoc that would have come upon my pies. 
Lest you may think me unduly careful of my pies, 
I will try at some other time to give you the 
particulars of my first pumpkin-pie baking. It 
seems Loomis had gone to spend the night 
with Wright, and finding Wright's horse sick 
Ii8 



of pioneer S^IIinoi^ 



had prescribed a decoction of prairie herbs, 
and proposed to Wright to come to our kitchen 
and boil tlie same, telHng him that he would 
find everything there convenient for their use. 
Your father, of course, bade them welcome to 
the kitchen and all that was in it, referring 
them to Doris for whatever they might need. 
Doris, who was always telling how **plasum 
and lafum" — pleasant and laughing — Mr. 
Tillson was, stoutly remonstrated against having 
the herbs being brought on her clean floor, 
and the boiler, that we would need for wash- 
ing on Monday, made filthy from the boiling 
of the weeds, and her tin dippers and pans 
used which she had just polished and displayed 
each on its own particular nail on the kitchen 
wall. Besides, there would be '*heper" folks 
to get breakfast for, and tomorrow was God's 
day; ** God's book say not to work on that 
day. ' ' But permission had been given, and the 
work commenced. I found myself too sick and 
tired from Saturday's effort to sleep, so I got 
up and sat by my little window, opposite the 
kitchen door, so near that I was obliged to be 
the hearer of more than I could wish. As the 
morning was chilly, and but one fire-place on 
the premises, I repaired early to the kitchen 
and with Doris put things to rights again, and 
had breakfast in progress before any of the 
guests came to the door to ask permission to 
put their feet to the fire. Judge Enos first put 
his head in and asked to be admitted to the 



119 



a l^oman'iBf ^torp 



culinaries, and one after another until the dining 
room was quite deserted. 

After breakfast Judge Enos and Porter 
started for Springfield, Mr. Brown and Mr. 
Tillson for the Bond County meeting, leaving 
Mrs. Brown and myself alone. Before the 
next morning we had another visitor. Our 
dear Charley opened his eyes upon the rough 
cabin walls, and with his chubby fists in his 
mouth he looked — as Mother Kilpatrick de- 
clared — as if he was two months old and knew 
us all. We felt we had a precious gift, but 
the way to take care of it was the puzzle. It 
was the fifteenth of September, the nights 
cool and chilly, and the days too cool to expose 
a thing so tender to the rough blasts. We 
had a sheet-iron stove set in the wall between 
the bed-rooms; when the wind favored, we 
could kindle a fire to dress the baby, but when 
adverse winds prevailed we had him rolled 
in a blanket and taken to the kitchen to be ' 
dressed. The toilet was soon made, as the 
western women felt that water was a deadly 
application for babies. They kept their babies' 
heads covered with a thick calico cap until 
they were several months old, in which time a 
black surface would form and cover the scalp. 
They would then commence a season of clean- 
ing by saturating the head with either hog or 
*'bar's" (bear) grease, and then as it would 
come loose, pick off the black coating. As it 
would usually come off in large blotches, it 

120 



of ^xmittt ^Fllinoi^ 



gave a sad, leopard-like appearance to the little 
"honey." 

Mrs. Kilpatrick offered her services as nurse 
and stayed with me two weeks, and rendered all 
the assistance that she knew and felt to be 
necessary, and did many things that I have 
no doubt she deemed unnecessary. She asked 
me the first morning, after I had taken a cup 
of coffee with some light bread crumbled into 
it, what she should get for my dinner; had 
heard the Yankee women dieted at such times; 
for herself, she always took pork and cabbage 
for her first meal. I mention this to show 
her ideas of nursing the sick, which extended 
into all her other ways of management; yet 
she was kind, and probably exercised much 
forbearance in gratifying the notions of a 
Yankee. 

During the time she was with me the chim- 
ney had been built, Mr. Black had returned 
from the Townsends, and I, with a baby two 
weeks old, was again reinstated at my family's 
head, said family consisting of five men, and with 
no other help than poor little Doris. After 
about a week I began to give out, and your 
father went around the settlement until he found 
a girl. I asked her what she could do. She 
said she "tuck keer of the truck patch in sum- 
mer, and milked the cows and spinned right 
smart in winter. ' ' I asked her how old she was. 
"Pse older nor Pse good," was the reply. I 
found very few parents or children knew their 

121 



91 l^oman'^ ^torp 



ages. She said her mother thought she could 
"yearn" six bits a week at spinning, and she 
must have that for house-work. She could 
milk "right smart," and bring in wood, make 
fires, and some few things to make Doris' work 
a little easier, but on the whole we felt relieved 
when at the end of two weeks she went back to 
her mammy. I did not hear of her again until 
some ten years afterwards, when there was a 
great scarcity of eggs and the farmers were sav- 
ing all they could for the St. Louis market. As 
I was about to give Bela White and Miss Strat- 
ton a wedding entertainment, I dispatched a lad 
through the country to get eggs for my wedding 
cake. He had but little success until he came 
to Forehand's, and was there refused, but when 
on leaving Mrs. Forehand found out it was for 
me he wanted them she called him back and said 
"that ever since her Jane lived with us she 
had alius meaned to do us some gud. She alius 
thought a scandalous heap on Tillson's wife, 
and she would send me some eggs if Jarvis 

— her husband — didn't like it." With the 
strong feeling that prevailed among the poor 
whites at that time against the Yankees, I 
could never understand how it was that we lived 
so peaceably among them, and with all the trials 
of being in such a community we had the con- 
fidence and good will of most of them, which 
were manifested in various ways. 

Jesse Buzan — who rented our bottom-field 

— had a wife whose great enjoyment seemed 

122 



of pioneer 3^tltnoi^ 



to consist in coming every day to inspect. 
She was taken quite by surprise when one day 
I offered her a piece of what I told her was 
Yankee pie. She looked blank and said, "I 
didn't think you would say the like of that; 
I alius knowed youens were all Yankees, but 
Billy said 'don't let on that we know it, kase 
it'll jest make them mad.' " I told her I was 
proud to be called a Yankee, and that she need 
never fear to speak of it. She looked incredu- 
lous, and then said, "Billy and I have always 
found you jess so, but some folks say they 
have been here when Yankees come in, and 
you talk a heap of things that you don't say 
to us." ** Do they say I talk against anyone? " 
**0 no, not that; but you use a heap of words 
to Yankees that you don't when you talk to us. 
They say, too, you put a lot of nasty truck in 
your bread. It is what you keep in a bottle, 
purlass, I believe, is the name, and they say 
it is full of dead flies, and bugs, and cricket 
legs." I brought forward my little bottle of 
dissolved pearl ash, looking so clear and pure, 
and showed it to her, but it seemed hard to 
give up her old prejudice. 

November i6, 1S71. 

I have not, as I hoped to do, been able to 
write much of late, and find that what I have 
written only brings me a year into my western 
experience, and will in future try to avoid 
prosiness and state things as they suggest 
123 
4 



at 5^oman'^ ^torp 



themselves. We lived on in the usual way 
until the July of 1824, when our new parlor 
and a sleeping-room above was so far finished 
as to admit of occupancy, and was meekly 
furnished to serve the demands of comfort and 
to avoid the censure and envy of the multitude. 
After we had settled ourselves again a little 
more comfortable as to house accommodations, 
your father suggested the plan of opening 
a small store, to bring from St. Louis such 
goods as the natives were needing and to take 
in exchange butter, honey, beeswax, maple 
sugar, and such things as they could raise. He 
thought it would be a convenience and benefit 
to the neighborhood; but his strongest induce- 
ment was to get up something that would 
interest his brother. Robert did not like the 
business in his office as he had hoped, and 
did not feel interested in farming. He thought 
there was a clerkship in a store at Halifax he 
could get, and wanted to go back. Your father 
did not want him to return dissatisfied; nor 
did he feel that it would be the best move for 
him, and as a matter of encouragement pro- 
posed the store to Robert and suggested to 
me that we should give up our two little bed- 
rooms and use our new room, our parlor, as a 
bedroom until we could build another. It was 
a sad inconvenience to me, but I believe I did 
not object, and tried to make things go as well 
as the nature of the case would permit. Robert 
seemed to enjoy the preparation, and was quite 
124 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



busy in making arrangements for receiving and 
packing the butter for a few months, but finally 
it lost its charm and homesickness again took 
possession of his mind, and when customers 
came I found it easier to go in and wait upon 
them than to look for and find Robert. So I 
had quite an experience in mercantile life, and 
in keeping accounts with the Suckers. 

The next year, the winter of 1824, the brick 
house at the county seat — Hillsboro — was 
commenced, and our arrangements made for 
renting the farm. The house was to be built by 
contract — a one-story brick house. The reason 
of our giving up our abode at the farm, where 
your father had expected to remain, was a 
dispute that had been going on between Colonel 
Seward and the county commissioners about 
the county seat. It had been located on the 
west side of Shoal Creek, adjoining Colonel 
Seward's farm, and but a mile from our house, 
and had been named Hamilton, after Hamil- 
ton, Ohio, Colonel Seward's former place of 
residence . Things worked smoothly for a while, 
until the misunderstanding with the Colonel. 
Then there was a petition to the legislature and a 
new location. The county seat was changed 
from the east to the west side of the creek. 
Your father, being postmaster, was obliged to 
move the post office to the county seat. Mr. 
Rountree, who was clerk of court, was obliged 
to keep his office there also; so he — Mr. 
Rountree — put up a small log cabin for his 
125 



a Woman'^ ^totp 



office and your father made him deputy post- 
master, to deliver letters between the arrival 
of the mails. Not far from that time the mails 
began to arrive once a week, and it was only 
necessary for your father to be there and 
receive them and make them up to be sent 
away. 

It was nearly two miles from our house, how- 
ever, to the office, and in winter the creek 
would be so flooded that it was almost im- 
possible for him to cross. Indeed, it was a 
dangerous performance at best. One night 
the mail had been delayed by high waters be- 
tween Vandalia and Hillsboro, and he had to 
cross the creek in the dark, with the water 
coming up to the saddle. He came home com- 
pletely drenched. After he had got himself 
into dry clothing and eaten his supper, he told 
me that he had that day seen Dickerson,^^ of 
Vandalia, and had employed him to put up a 
brick building that would serve for an office, 
store, and post office. The building was to 
have two rooms. I told him if he would put 
up four rooms instead of two I would take the 
baby and go there to live, for I was tired of 
the danger to which he was exposed in crossing 
that creek at all times of the night and in all 
stages of water. 

I spoke from the impulse of my feelings at 

^^ According to W. H. Perrin's History of Bond 
and Montgomery Counties (Chicago, 1882), the builder 
of Tillson's house was one John Nickerson. 
126 



of pioneer 3^Ilinoi^ 



the time, not thinking that anything would ever 
come from it. He sat and looked in the fire 
for about half an hour, then went to his desk, 
brought a sheet of paper, took another himself, 
and said: "I have been thinking over what 
you said about moving into town, and now I 
will draw a plan of a house and you may draw 
another and we will compare and decide on 
what kind of a building to put up. So we both 
went to work, and each drew a plan, and then 
compared and changed and settled upon what 
both thought would be about right, and before 
we went to bed had the business all decided, 
a thing that neither of us had thought of three 
hours before. 

I will give you a drawing, showing the plan 
of the first brick house ever built in Mont- 
gomery County, or within twenty miles of it. 
This was the winter of 1824-25. Dickerson 
commenced his brickyard in the early spring 
of '25, and promised a house ready for occu- 
pancy by the spring following, '26 ; but alas for 
promises. Dickerson was a smart business 
man, a gentlemanly fellow, but by some mis- 
chance he was owing more than he had the 
means of paying, and your father was obliged 
to take a bill of sale of all the bricks that were 
being made lest Dickerson's creditors should 
claim them, and thereby we should lose our 
house. The original plan was for a one-story 
cottage. Your father came in one day and 
asked if I would object to having it made two 
127 



31 5^oman'^ ^torp 



stories, giving as a reason that he had already 
advanced more for Dickerson's debts than 
would cover the expense of a one-story house. 
The thing seemed so formidable that it was 
quite an alarm. A two-stOKy brick house 
among the log cabins, it would never do. 
What would the natives say ? And how should 
I feel to have the care of such a mansion.? 
But the thing was decided upon and your 
father seemed wonderfully pleased. 

In October of 1825 another noble boy was 
given us. I had occupied my parlor for a bed- 
room, and John was much more comfortably 
housed and lodged than was his elder brother, 
who was two years his senior. I had made the 
acquaintance of Mrs. Townsend, who was with 
me and remained until John was a week old. 
She had Julia — afterwards Mrs. Hinckley — 
with her. There was but three days difference 
in the ages of Charley and Julia, and the new 
baby was to them a most wonderful event. 
Julia said he was her **bubber," and she 
would have him to help * 'Pater Willie make 
tacks' ' — hay stacks. Charley would get angry 
and cry, because if Pater Willie had booboo 
Don, he would have no bubber. When Mrs. 
Townsend went home, Rosetta — Eliza Braley 's 
mother — came and spent the winter with me. 
She was only thirteen years old, but until I 
could get out of my room was the only house- 
keeper I had. I had old Black Lucy in the 
kitchen, but she could do nothing out of it. 
128 



of pioneer S^llinoiitf 



She could cook her three meals and bring them 
into the dining room, and do the family wash- 
ing. Whatever else was done had to be done 
by Rosetta or myself, as I gained strength 
to go about, but there was more left undone 
than done for awhile. 

The next year, the October of 1 826, I had 
promised Caleb and Lucy a vacation, or, as 
the negroes called it, a "long broad," their 
term for a long visit. The time I had arranged 
for their * 'broad" was when your father and 
Uncle Robert were to be absent, and I expected 
to have no family but myself and the two child- 
ren and a Miss Seymour, who had a few months 
before come into the settlement. She was a 
homesick girl; had come from North Carolina 
with her brother's family and her father, who 
was an old, broken down Irish gentleman, a 
devout Christian, and of higher cultivation 
than his children. We had besides Caleb and 
Lucy a white boy, who was indispensable to 
me as a house servant. 

Your father had been very busy for several 
days preparing papers which he was to send 
off by your Uncle Robert to Vandalia, and 
after he left was getting ready to go to Edwards- 
ville to act as one of the commissioners for the 
closing up of the old bank at that place, but 
was suddenly taken ill, and the morning he 
was to leave found him in bed with a raging 
fever and a delirium which was truly distress- 
ing. He imagined the fringes on the window 
129 



31 l^oman'^ ^torp 



curtains were rattlesnakes, and imagined it to 
be my duty to keep them from the bed. Miss 
Seymour had a boil on her foot and could not 
wear a shoe, and instead of being a help was 
a decided bother. Her foot being first and 
foremost, and indeed all she could talk about, 
I found myself in 07ie of the tight places, not 
the tight place, for I found too many such. 
Besides my performances in the kitchen as 
cook, and attendance on all the "Suckers" 
that came to the store, measuring cotton cloth 
and linsey, weighing coffee, indigo, and mad- 
der — or as they called it, mather — and in ex- 
change for which would be the weighing of 
butter, beeswax, honey, and counting of eggs; 
chickens they sold by the "par" (pair). 

When my mercantile labor was ended, and 
I released from my duties behind the counter, 
it would be quite a circumstance not to find 
my year-old baby crying for mamma, or my 
three-year-old boy up to his elbow in mischief, 
or something burnt in the kitchen; for Willis, 
our boy, though indispensable in my house- 
keeping, was but an eye-servant, and as out- 
door occupations were more in accordance 
with his taste, would find himself under the 
necessity of canvassing the hay-mow for eggs 
or feeding the chickens while the things left in 
his care in the kitchen would be most sadly 
charred. The customers gone, the babies peace- 
ful, Willis called in, the hens driven out of 
the kitchen, with time only to hear a passing 
130 



of pioneer ^fllinoi^ 



remark from Sarah as to the condition of her 
**fut " (foot), and then I was ready to assume 
the duties of nurse, your father expressing his 
surprise that I would stay away so long and 
trying to impress me with the importance of 
staying in the room lest he might want some- 
thing in my absence, and a solemn charge to 
keep Sarah and the children out of the room. 
One day he seemed more comfortable, and 
told me that I must write some letters that 
should be sent away the next morning. So 
after giving Sarah a charge to watch Willis 
and see that he took care of the children, and 
that he did not run off to the stable or leave 
the kitchen door open to the occupancy of the 
hens or pigs, I gathered my writing material 
and repaired to the bed side, where I was to 
act as amanuensis. I at first had to write to 
each bank commissioner, stating his sickness 
and inabihty to be with them; then a long letter 
to Stephen B. Munn of New York, and also 
some others. The writing finished, I had to 
send Willis to the office with the letters to be 
mailed. He returned, bringingback the letters, 
and informed me that Mr. Rountree was away 
and that " Mrs. Rountree did not know nothing, 
no how, about postoffice." Your father then 
sent back to the office, two miles, to have all 
the letters brought to him that had been put 
in the office the previous week, and to me was 
assigned the task of making up the mail. It 
was no small task, either, for as he had for- 
131 



31 l^omaif ^ ^torp 



gotten t© send for the way-bills — which are 
printed blanks to be filled out and put with 
each package — I had to make out the whole 
thing, way-bills and all, in regular postoffice 
order. After a few days your Uncle Robert 
returned and we immediately sent him to 
Greenville for a physician; it being twenty 
miles, it was an all-day's ride. I had not sent 
before because Dr. Newhall, our family physi- 
cian, was not in Greenville, and your father 
did not profess confidence in any other, so I 
had to carry him through a course of treatment 
the best I could, though with fearful forebodings 
as to whether I was pursuing the right course. 
The anxiety and responsibility I felt about his 
sickness was more than all the labor and care 
with which I was burdened. 

After he had consented to have a doctor, 
and Robert had returned with Dr. Drake and 
he had approved of my treatment, I felt wonder- 
fully relieved; a heavy responsibility had been 
lifted from my poor, tired-out body and mind. 
The doctor stayed two days and watched the 
progress of his convalescence, and then said 
he must go home, as he had other patients re- 
quiring his care. Your father remonstrated 
stoutly against his leaving, and it was with the 
greatest difficulty he could bring him to any 
reasonable understanding as to the necessity 
of his going home. When my mind was more 
at ease I began to feel how thoroughly worn 
down and tired I had become, and shall never 
132 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



forget the sensation it gave me to see little 
Julia's green hood coming through the gate, 
and holding it open for her mother. To those 
who have never known the loneliness that had 
encircled me for the few past weeks, my feel- 
ings could not be described. The sight of a face 
beaming with kindness as was Mother Town- 
send's when she came in and said, "And why 
didn't thee let me know.? " Such friends and 
such acts of friendship can never be forgotten, 
nor can they be understood by those who have 
not been in like isolation. 

Mrs. Townsend spent a week with me, and 
took John — who was about a year old — to 
sleep with her and JuHa. Ever after his father 
was taken sick he seemed to have a horror of 
everybody; would not let Sarah touch him, or 
do the least thing for him; he seemed to feel 
that something was wrong, as if a perfect 
terror had taken hold of him. Through the day 
he would hold on to the skirts of my dress as 
I passed from room to room; then at night I 
had to take him in my arms and lie down on the 
bed beside your father, and if obliged to get up 
and wait upon him, John would wake and cling 
to me with such a frenzied cry that I would be 
obliged to carry him about in my arms until I 
could get him quieted enough to lie down. It 
seemed a wonderful release when I could give 
him up to Mother Townsend and undress and 
go to bed at night, a thing I had not done for 
more than a week. Mrs. Townsend did not 

133 



31 3©aman'^ «Storp 



leave me until Caleb and Lucy returned; the 
children were happy and pleased to have them 
back; and your father getting so as to sit up 
a little, when we heard that your Uncle Charles 
was on his way to Illinois. 

It had been four years since I left my New 
England home and in that time I had seen no 
face that I had ever known before, excepting 
your father's and Uncle Robert's, and it was 
with no little exciting interest that I looked 
forward to his arrival. When I left home he 
was a lad of eighteen, in a store in Boston. 
Four years had brought him to be a handsome 
young man of twenty-two. We had a happy 
meeting. Charles seemed wonderfully pleased 
with the children, and they with him; but as 
they had never seen but one uncle they refused 
to acknowledge him as such, and would say, 
** Robert is my uncle." 

In speaking of your father's requirements 
when he was sick, it might seem to those who 
did not know his kind heart that his was a 
difficult spirit to contend with. I know not 
why it is, but have observed it frequently that 
when a difficult and uproarious case of human- 
ity is prostrated by sickness it becomes gentle 
and submissive and exhibits a lamb-like spirit. 
Your father in health was amiable and mild, 
and had no love for exercising authority over 
others, but in sickness he understood every 
duty of a nurse and was faithful in seeing 
that it was performed. As soon as he was 
134 



of pioneer 3^Ilinoi^ 



able to attend to business came the prepara- 
tion for the land sales at Vandalia. The sales 
were of lands on which the taxes had not been 
paid. They commenced early in the winter 
and continued for about two months, a certain 
number being put up every day and most of 
them bought in for the amount of the taxes. 
The lands sold were mostly soldiers' bounty 
lands, and owned by persons in the eastern 
states. The yards of land lists that had to be 
copied before the sales brought another season 
of hurry, and as I could write then with a 
better hand than I now do, and quite rapidly, 
I was called into the business, and our evenings 
were often prolonged to the morning hours. 

After your father started for Vandalia, tak- 
ing your Uncle Robert with him to assist in 
his writing, I commenced preparations for 
my eastern visit, to which I had been looking 
forward for the last four years, and as the 
whole preparation for leaving home, providing 
a home for Caleb and Lucy in our absence, 
and of getting a comfortable outfit for your 
father, myself, and the children, devolved up- 
on me, 1 found myself fully occupied. Mrs. 
Townsend helped me some, but as her daugh- 
ter, Rosetta, was to go with us, she had her 
wardrobe to prepare. Such a thing as hiring 
a day's sewing was then unheard of in that 
region. A week before we started eastward 
our furniture was removed to our new house 
and packed in one of the rooms. In another 
135 



at 5^oman'^ ^torp 



room the office furniture was deposited, the 
office to be kept open, your Uncles Robert and 
Charles acting as land-agents and store-keepers. 
We had a cabin built for Caleb and Lucy not 
far from the new house, and left them with a 
barrel of flour, corn meal and bacon, and coffee 
and sugar sufficient for the six months that we 
expected to be absent. 

The day before we left Caleb came to us with 
one of his sanctimonious faces that he could 
put on whenever he wanted to carry any point, 
and after a profound bow and a speech of negro 
blarney, made known his request that your 
father would give him something to show that 
he was a free man; that he wanted to live and 
die with us and the dear children; but life was 
onsartain, and we might not live to come 
back, and then he and Lucy would have to be 
sold like other niggers. 

The law of the state was very hard on those 
who liberated slaves, requiring them to give 
bonds for the good behavior of the negro, and 
should they become chargeable to the state for 
their support those who had liberated them had 
to meet the expenses. When Governor Coles 
went to Illinois, he entered a quarter section 
of land and took with him all the slaves he had 
inherited from his father's estate in Virginia 
and gave them their freedom and a home on 
the prairie land he had provided for them, but 
had not given bonds to the state that they 
should not be chargeable ; had intended to do so, 
136 



of pioneer S^Ilinoi^ 



but neglected it up to the time he was nominated 
as a candidate for governor. Party feeling ran 
very high at that time, and a determination 
among the southern portion of the inhabitants 
to have the constitution changed and slavery 
admitted to the state was carried to a great 
length. Mr. Coles, who had been born in Vir- 
ginia and always lived among slaves, had come 
to the new state of Illinois with an honest in- 
tention of taking a decided stand on the side 
of freedom by giving up nearly all his patri- 
mony, was looked upon by the southern aris- 
tocracy as a most bitter foe to their cause, and 
to retaliate they brought suit against him for 
non-compliance with the laws of the state and 
recovered three thousand dollars, but lost their 
democratic governor, and Coles. Mr. Coles 
had held a high position in social life, had 
traveled abroad, been private secretary of 
President Madison, was a man of fine sensibil- 
ities and strictly moral character, but such a 
man must be put down, and a suit was brought 
against him and three thousand dollars added 
to his other expenses in freeing and providing 
for the poor negroes. 

Well, I have made quite a digression from 
Caleb and Lucy to Governor Coles, but the 
case was the same with your father, and as 
Caleb was a dangerous fellow when drunk, 
and in your father's absence much given to 
spreeing, it was a case requiring some wisdom. 
It may be necessary to explain why we were in 

137 



i 



a l^oman'^ J^torp 



possession of slaves. Nothing but dire neces- 
sity could have induced us to the course we 
pursued in taking them. Caleb and Lucy were 
among those brought into Illinois while it was 
a territory. When it became a state, the con- 
stitution permitted those who held slaves to 
retain them as indentured servants, or slaves, 
with the privilege of selling their indentures to 
others, or to send them down the river and to 
sell them for as much as they could get. Their 
children were to be the property of the masters 
with whom they were born until they were 
eighteen or twenty-five years of age, I have 
forgotten which, and they then became free 
negroes. Caleb and Lucy were the indentured 
slaves of Robert McLaughlin of Vandalia. 
He was an uncle of Governor Duncan's, and 
kept the principal hotel at Vandalia. Your 
father always stopped there during the winter, 
and would frequently speak of Lucy as a good 
cook. 

Your father came home from Vandalia at 
one time and told me that Mr. McLaughlin^^ 

^^Col. Robert K. McLaughlin was a native of Vir- 
ginia, a lawyer by profession, who removed first to 
Kentucky and shortly thereafter to Belleville, Illinois. 
He was elected to the office of state treasurer in 1819 
and thereupon removed to Vandalia, the new capital, 
which continued to be his home until his death in 
1862. A history of Fayette County records that 
Colonel McLaughlin had five negroes at Vandalia, 
that they soon ran away, and that he made no effort 
to recover them. Apparently Mrs. Tillson's account 
of this phase of his career is the more accurate one. 

138 



I 



of J^ioneer S^llmoi^ 



asked him to buy out their indentures; said 
that Lucy was valuable to them, but Caleb 
was getting old, and quarreled with the other 
negroes, and unless he could find someone to 
take them he had made up his mind to send 
them to New Orleans and sell them. Caleb 
was sixty years of age and Lucy thirty, and 
they had about twenty-five years to serve — 
what should he do ? Your father thought that 
if we could better their condition, and thereby 
secure Lucy as a cook, it would not be amiss 
to make the purchase. I had never seen Caleb 
and Lucy and consequently had none of the 
sympathy which your father felt for them, 
and with my persistent feeling against slavery 
would not consent to the bargain, and no more 
had been said about it. 

, One morning, after a night of little rest 
from the fatigue of overworking the day before, 
I went into the kitchen to make preparation 
for breakfast. I had no girJ. Nelly, the girl 
who a few months before took the water to the 
gentleman's rooms — you have heard the story 
— had behaved badly and I had sent her off, 
and I felt a relief when she was gone. When 
I opened the kitchen door that morning there 
were two queer specimens of humanity stretched 
horizontally, covering almost the entire vacant 
space on our small kitchen floor. When I 
appeared a black figure arose and drawing his 
tall proportions into their most graceful atti- 
tude and putting on the same patronizing face 

139 



a. Woman'^ ^torp 



that he wore when he would say, "I'se not 
hkederest; Fse half Delaware Ingin; de best 
blood when cool, but, miza me, when het up 
de worst blood det eben is in Ingin tribes," 
he bowed obsequiously and said, "I am Caleb, 
and dis is Lucy, on de floor. I'se had ac- 
quaint'nce with Mr. Tillson for some years; 
I allers blacks his boots and makes his fires 
when he's in Vandalia. I'se broke with Mas- 
ter Mac, and I thought I would come and try 
to git in with you, madam. I'll kindle the 
fire, and den you can tell Lucy 'bout de bref- 
fast." I made my way back to the bedroom 
and when I returned found Lucy up and await- 
ing my orders. It was no small consideration 
with me, worn down as I was, to have some- 
one to cook a comfortable dinner, and at night 
make some biscuit and get up a supper that 
pleased your father, without the necessity of 
being over the big, open fire-place and lifting 
the Dutch oven myself. Still it was slavery — 
the price of blood — that haunted me. As 
there was a penalty attached to those who 
harbored runaway slaves, your father wrote 
immediately to Mr. McLaughlin, informing 
him of our morning surprise and asking him 
what to do with them. 

After about a month Lucy came to the 
kitchen in great glee and told me that Master 
Robert was at the gate and was coming in with 
Mr. Tillson, and she was "gwine tu have 
some fuss rate biskits, and cook some of dat 
140 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



nice ham, jes' to let de slave folks see dat de 
Yankees has as good things as theyuns; and 
please, will you get out some of your best de- 
serves?" After the table was ready she came 
again to know if she could roll up the back 
window curtains in the dining room, so that 
by going out doors she could look in and see 
how Old Massa liked his supper. Of course 
all Lucy's reasonable requests were complied 
with, and "Old Massa "gave evidence of his 
appreciation of a good meal. 

After supper, in the parlor, Mr. McLaughlin 
and your father proceeded to business. He 
had made up his mind that if your father would 
give him five hundred dollars for the time Lucy 
was to serve, thirty years, and fifty feet of 
plank from his mill for Caleb's indentures, 
which were not for as long a time as Lucy's, 
he would give him a quit-claim to their future 
services. If not, he should take them to New 
Orleans, where he could get a higher price, 
but, professing a kind sympathy for their wel- 
fare, would prefer to make the sacrifice. He 
was to spend the night with us and the pro- 
posal was to be decided in the morning. I 
saw that your father's wish was to retain them, 
and as my kitchen labors were to be abated, 
and feeling, too, as he did, that I could not 
think of having them sent off to the slave pens 
of New Orleans, we both concluded to keep 
them. Work was made lighter, but conscience 
not quite easy. 

141 



31 ^oman'^ ^torp 



January, i8'j2. 

Having brought my reminiscences to the 
close of the four-and-a-half years of Illinois, 
I will, before beginning on another year, give a 
parting retrospect of my isolation while at our 
log cabin at the farm. In the four years I had 
left home once, to go to Vandalia, where I 
spent nearly a week, taking with me Charley, 
who was six weeks old. We also took Mr. 
Black, who had been sick and with us for the 
four previous months, but had so far recovered 
as to be able to enter the auditor's office as 
clerk for Colonel Berry. ^^ About a year after- 
wards I went to Greenville and spent two days 
with the Blanchards'. The third year of my 
backwoods life I went to St. Louis, stopping 
at Collinsville and spending the Sabbath at 
Deacon Collins'. 

That Sunday was communion day, and I 
there met Mrs. Breath, who with her son Ed- 
ward for a driver had come down from the Ma- 
rine settlement in a wagon, drawn by two stout 
oxen. Ed., the teamster, was afterwards the 
beloved missionary to Persia, and Mrs. Breath 
did not feel her dignity lowered or any apolo- 
gy necessary on account of her rude turnout, 
but simply remarked that they had lost their 

horses. I also met with Mrs. B , from St. 

Louis, who was a visitor there. I saw her in 

"Elijah C. Berry of Kaskaskia, first state auditor 
of Illinois. 

142 



of pioneer S^llinoi^ 



St. Louis when I made my first visit, and 
when I had all my nice wedding wardrobe, and 
was complimented on my good taste in dressing. 
"Like begets like," and I was not aware that 
two and a half years with such coarse sur- 
roundings had told so heavily on my personal 
appearance. Mrs. B. somewhat officiously tried 
to convince me of the fact, saying I dressed 
old enough for a lady of old Mrs. Collins' age. 
I had had an attack of intermittent fever the 
autumn previous and lost my hair, so that I had 
been under the necessity of wearing a cap, 
and as there had been no style to follow I made 
rather an outlandish appearance; I had taken 
one of my best collars, put on a muslin crown, 
and trimmed it with lace, a thing that in com- 
parison with the checkered cotton handerker- 
chiefs worn on the heads of our native women 
was quite a triumph, but when I showed my 
head to the St. Louis aristocracy I felt de- 
cidedly night-cappy. Arriving at St. Louis the 
Paddocks gave me hints and lectures on the 
same subject; was there three or four days 
and brushed up a little. Started for Edwards- 
ville; on our way homeward spent two days 
at Major Hopkins*. The last night I spent 
there Charley was taken sick, and in the morn- 
ing the whole family remonstrated about our 
leaving with so sick a child. 

The flies, which at that season swarmed on 
the prairie, made it dangerous to attempt 
crossing in the daytime, as they would attack 
143 



31 ^oman'iB? ^torp 



horses in such a way as to make them perfectly 
frantic and unmanageable. This was another 
reason urged why it would be unsafe for us to 
start, but your father had a business engagement 
to meet and his mind was made up; so taking a 
bottle of something to allay Charley's thirst, 
for he had a high fever, and taking him on my 
lap, we started on our ride of forty miles. 
There was a strong wind that day which was 
fortunate for us as the flies could not settle on 
the horses as in a calm, and by a most furious 
driving, which your father well understood, 
we were enabled to reach home before night. 

These three visits were all that I made out 
oTour own neighborhood for the first four-and- 
a-half years. Twice in that time I spent a day 
at * ' Parson Townsend's, ' ' seven miles from us. 
I spent one day at Colonel Seward's, one at 
Butler Seward's, and occasionally would ride 
up to ''Father Townsend's" and spend a day 
or part of a day. Among the western neighbors, 
I dined twice at Esquire Kilpatrick's, in the 
cabin without a floor; once at Jesse Buzan's, 
once at Commodore Yoakum's, which, with 
the exception of one wedding, and one * ' infare, ' ' 
covered all my absences from the old home. 

Perhaps you do not understand the word 
"infare." It is the reception of the bridal 
pair and other invited guests at the house of 
the groom's father the day after the marriage. 
It was the only time I ever witnessed the 
western custom of riding for the bride's bottle. 
144 



of pioneer S^Uinoi^ 



If I had not already gone into so many par- 
ticulars, I would give you a description of the 
race. The wedding I attended was that of 
Mrs. Kilpatrick's daughter, who was married 
to a stranger who had recently appeared in the 
neighborhood calling himself a doctor. I 
knew as soon as I put my eye on him that he 
was a scamp, but for Mrs. Kilpatrick's sake 
I invited them all to dine with me the next 
day. 

The story of my visits could soon be told; but 
visitors and hangers-on were legion. When 
preparing breakfast I never knew whether it 
was for my own family, or several more. The 
"bounty-landers," who were on their way from 
the military tract to Vandalia, would, after 
spending the night at Colonel Seward's, get 
on in the morning as far as the land-office, of 
course arriving just in time for breakfast. Be- 
sides which all the ministers made our house 
their depot. If we chanced to be patronized 
by a well-informed and good man, we felt it a 
favor conferred, but I am sorry to say the 
greater number of the clerical brothers were 
poor pay. Sarah Seymour spent about six 
months with me by invitation, a real bother, 
as was also the daughter of good Deacon Jones, 
who lived in our neighborhood a year and then 
went to his wild lands in Fulton County. Mrs. 
Jones asked me to keep her daughter and 
attend to her lessons, and accept her services 
as nurse for Charley and general assistant 
145 



a ^oman'^ J^torp 



about the house in return. She stayed not 
quite a year, and home seemed better after 
she left. Rosetta Townsend spent much of 
her time with me; a lovely girl, and we all be- 
came warmly attached to her. A sadness 
rests on her memory. Her life was a short 
one — she was loving and amiable. 

In the summer of 1826 we became members 
of the Shoal Creek Church in Bond County 
and Charles and John were baptized there, but 
as the church was sixteen miles from us we 
did not go to it only on communion seasons. 
It was the custom at that time to have the 
preparatory lecture on the Friday previous to 
the communion, and continue the services 
through Saturday, and as the log church was 
not convenient for a large gathering tents were 
put up, and such accommodations as are pro- 
vided at Methodist camp meetings. Our other 
church priviliges were to go occasionally to 
the Methodist, Cumberland Presbyterian, or 
"Hard-shell" Baptist, none of which edified or 
spiritualized much. Our attempt to get up a 
Sunday school by inviting the children of the 
settlement to our house on Sunday was in some 
respects encouraging, though there were some 
drawbacks and discouragements attending it. 
One girl, whose father and mother could read, 
had instructed their promising daughter in all 
that they knew. She came a few Sundays, and 
because I would not give her lessons in gram- 
mar concluded that she could read as well as 
146 



of pioneer S^Hinoi^ 



I could, and so absented herself from the 
school. Sometimes I was sadly in doubt as 
to how to manage with the fathers and mothers 
of the children, who had never ''seed" a Sun- 
day-school, and came, bringing their babies, 
to sit as spectators while we gave instruction, 
but did not get ready to go away when the 
school was dismissed, and not until they had 
tasted the worth of Yankee cooking. 

You may feel that I have attached undue 
notice to the meals given and the calls on our 
hospitality, but could you know the labor of 
bringing from raw materials anything at all 
presentable for family use, you would under- 
stand why the impression was so lasting. Be- 
sides the burden of cooking, there were many 
others. Every Monday morning, instead of 
pumping out a boiler of soft water, the kettle 
had to be suspended over the fire by means of 
pot-hooks fastened to a trammel that was sus- 
pended from a bar in the chimney. The getting 
the kettle hung was too severe for a woman's 
muscle, and a man had to be called into the 
performance. Then a small kettle containing 
ashes and water must also be put on the fire; 
when the small kettle boiled and the water be- 
came lye, it was taken off and settled as you 
would a pot of coffee; not with egg, but with 
cold water. When the large kettle of water 
boiled, the water from the small kettle must be 
dipped into it and stirred until flakes like snow- 
flakes came up, and then, as Mother Seward — 
147 



a l^omatf ^ ^totp 



who instructed me in the process — would say, 
"the water was broke." The scum was then 
taken off from the top and the water dipped into 
tubs to cool, a thick sediment would fall to the 
bottom of the tubs, leaving the water clean and 
pure, ready for use. As several kettles full had 
to pass through this process, it would occupy 
the first half of washing day, thereby bringing 
everything wrong. When the clothes were 
washed I, contrary to all rule among my neigh- 
bors, hung them on a line instead of the fence, 
but as clothes-pins were not known there, had 
to wait until I could find Loomis in the right 
mood to whittle some out, which, after about 
three months, he accomplished. The first time 
they were used I was attracted to the window 
to see what was the source of such jollification 
as was being shown by two of our backwoods 
neighbors. They were looking at the clothes 
yard, and calling to the third, who was on his 
way to join them, "See here, ain't that jest 
the last Yankee fixin' ? jest see them ar little 
boys ridin' on a rope." 

We had no market and must live as did 
our neighbors on corn bread and "flitch." 
"Flitch " was the fat portion of the hog, which 
would be laid on the floor in one corner of 
their smoke-house, and salt sprinkled over it; it 
was a filthy process, and when cooked (fried) 
was a disgusting food; so in order to have more 
comfortable fare ourselves, and to have some- 
thing in readiness for the visitors that so un- 
148 






of pioneer ^Pllinoi^ 



ceremoniously came upon us, I had recourse to 
all the poor wits I possessed. We usually had 
a quarter of beef — nothing less — brought at a 
time ; sometimes a whole animal. Your father 
knew nothing about cutting and dividing meat, 
so by the help of directions laid down in a 
cookery book and a little saw I attempted this 
art. When I could not manage among the big 
bones I would enlist your Uncle Robert, and 
we performed wonderfully. A part would be 
salted down to be used for corn beef when the 
fresh had been eaten; the pieces for roast and 
steak set apart; the fat about the kidneys 
carefully picked out and put to dry for suet, 
and the remainder of the fat melted, strained, 
and put away for candles; a part made into 
"collared" or "pressed beef;" the round 
made into * ' hunter's beef, ' ' and the shins hung 
up in a cool place for soup; so in attending to 
the different ways of disposing of these things 
I had plenty to do, to say nothing of the care 
required in warm weather to keep the flies from 
leaving a deposit whereby animal life was en- 
gendered. 

But the most tedious thing was candle- 
making. Each desk in the office must be sup- 
pHed with two candles, and with what was 
necessary for other parts of the house not less 
than three dozen would suffice for a week. Un- 
fortunately for my own comfort I had experi- 
mented and made improvements in dipped 
candles until I had succeeded in getting them 

149 



a ^^omair^ ^torp 



of such brilliancy that no others were to be 
used in the office. I used to dip sixteen dozen 
in the fall and twenty dozen in the spring. For 
the spring candles I boiled the tallow in alum 
water to harden it for summer use. Were I to 
attempt to tell you the process, or the labor 
bestowed on these "nocturnal luminaries," 
you would not comprehend it, and as the day 
is past for making them, being a part of house- 
keeping, it will not be worth while to expatiate 
further on their merits. But oh! I can fancy 
my poor, tired shoulder and strained arm are 
now in sympathy with the toil of tallow. Not 
like practicing two hours on the piano, which 
when you are tired you can stop, but from 
three to four mortal hours the right arm must 
be in constant movement. If a rest is given 
to the arm the candles become too hard and 
break, and the tallow in the pot gets too cool, 
so dip, dip, dip, six candles at a time; each 
time the candles grow heavier and heavier, and 
the shoulder more rebellious. Besides the 
dipped candles I had moulds in which I could 
mould two dozen at once, and all the accumul- 
ations from the beef that we weekly cooked 
was turned into moulded candles, which your 
father said looked well, but did not give as 
clear a light as his office candles. I sometimes 
bought a cake of deer's tallow; it was harder 
than beef, but not as white; the natives used 
to put beeswax in their tallow. I tried it, but 
found they emitted an unpleasant smoke. 
150 



of pioneer 3^Hinoi^ 



Do not think that in all the four and a half 
years we sojourned at the farm, with all the 
disagreeable and laborious duties that devolved 
upon me, there were no bright spots — no silver 
linings to the lonely clouds. My two boys were 
real gems, relieving me of many lonely hours. 
We, too, had the acquaintance of the best peo- 
ple all over the state, and received visits from 
the most prominent men in the West. ' 

In 1835 we were in Philadelphia, where 
Governor Coles had established himself after 
his marriage. He called with his wife to in- 
vite us to a party at his house. We there 
met the elite of the city, besides some distin- 
guished strangers, and the Governor, when I 
alluded to our log cabin acquaintance, took 
occasion to inform the group that was near us 
that I had no claim to such a life; that I lived 
in a nicely painted house with a picket fence 
around it, and entertained more company than 
any other lady in the state. The old Governor 
was a little soft-soapy, and besides did not see 
our house until after it had received a covering 
of clapboards and a coat of white paint. I 
had many trials of patience within those old 
log walls and also many, very many things to 
alleviate the trials of backwoods life. Your 
father was in good business and had the means 
of doing many things for others less favored 
than himself. He had not only the means 
but the will to be generous, and he was cer- 
tainly a most cheerful giver. It is one of the 
151 



^ l^oman'^ ^torp 



greatest comforts to me in looking back on the 
past that we were placed in a condition to ex- 
tend favors to others, and if the means have 
been restricted, the will to do so is as strong 
as when the privilege was ours. I sometimes 
feel that if I had done more my restrictions 
would be less, but I hope never to live unmind- 
ful of the blessings that surrounded me in early 
life, and now that I am old and gray-headed I 
am not forsaken. 

In the spring of 1827 we started from our 
western home to visit our kinsfolks, — a great 
event and a great undertaking . I had no nurse. 
Charley was three-and-a-half, and Johnayear- 
and-a-half old. Rosetta Townsend went with us 
and tookcare of Charles. He slept with her and 
she washed aud dressed him; but poor John- 
nie! either the change of water or something 
else had given him a most inveterate summer 
sickness. It commenced at St. Louis and 
continued all the way. We were about four 
weeks in making the journey from St. Louis 
to Providence, an improvement in speed upon 
the seven-and-a-half weeks given to our first 
journey. I had had a winter of toil and moving 
with other labors attendant upon preparing 
for such a journey. My strength was so com- 
pletely exhausted that but for the all-absorbing 
desire to go back to the home of my childhood I 
think my courage would have failed. Johnnie 
was a patient little sufferer all the way. But 
few were the nights of quiet rest for either of us. 
152 



of J^ioneer ^flto^Ji^ 



We stopped a day or two at Louisville and 
Cincinnati, and at Pittsburgh took a stage for 
Erie, which was then a sorry little village. 
We waited three or four days for the lake to 
recover its smoothness after a long storm. 
The waves were rearing mountain high when 
we arrived there, and no boats ventured out 
for several days. We went to Buffalo, and 
started for Niagara the next morning. We 
were all day jolting over a wretched road in a 
carriage, a great part of the way through 
swampy ground with a corduroy bridging. The 
jolting was so severe on Johnnie that I carried 
him in my arms most of the way, and we did 
not reach Niagara until after dark, too late to 
see the Falls. As we were to leave the next 
day in time to reach and meet the canal boat, 
our only chance for seeing the Falls was to go 
out before breakfast; accordingly, as soon as 
the day dawned we were up, and leaving the 
children in bed, went out and feasted our eyes 
on the wonders of nature, returning to the 
hotel in time for breakfast and to hurry our- 
selves off for another corduroy siege. 

At we took the canal boat to , 

and then went by stage to Albany, where we 
stopped several days. Your father had busi- 
ness, and we found ourselves looking so decid- 
edly shabby that we thought it the part of 
decency, at least, to make ourselves a little 
more presentable before reaching New York, 
where we expected to meet acquaintances. So 
153 



a l^oman'^ ^torp 



I had made a new, blue ladies' cloth traveling 
dress, a skirt and jacket, much as they are 
now worn, minus overskirt, a black figured silk 
dress, a leghorn bonnet, and some things for 
the children. Your father appeared in a new 
suit and much to our amusement the clerk, 
who had seen him go out and in for several 
days without making any particular demon- 
stration, met him at the door as he came in 
the first time in his new suit, and with his 
most obsequious bow showed him to the best 
parlor, thinking he had a new guest. We went 
to New York and stayed with Rosetta's grand- 
father, Mr. Downing. It was easier for me, 
as I could leave the children with Rosetta and 
go out occasionally. I felt quite at home, and 
had an opportunity to get some rest. From 
New York we went to Providence and spent a 
few days, and then your Aunt Maria, taking 
httle Maria, went with us to Kingston, where 
we all spent the rest of the summer. 



154 



Index 



3!ntieji: 



Adams, John Quincy, appointments, 90-91. 

Adamson, Miss — , married, S8. 

Ague. See Fever and Ague. 

Albany (N. Y.), visited, 153. 

Allen, George C., pioneer, 7, 10. 

Allen, Rowland P., pioneer, 7, 10. 

Allen, Seth, at Providence, 34. 

Alton, college at, 4; residents, 9. 

American Fur Company, Illinois traders, xiii. 

Amherst (Mass.), pubhcation at, XX, 3. 

Anti-slavery issue, in Illinois, 8, 9, 10, 137. See also 
slavery. 

Atlas, in Pike County, 7, 9. 

Attleboro (Mass.), emigrant from, 95. 

Baltimore, seaport, 11. 

Baptists, in Illinois, 14, 78, 111-113, 146. 

Barrens (Ky.), emigrants from, 25. 

Barter, in early Illinois, 124, 130. 

Bateman and Selby. Historical Encyclopedia of Illi- 
nois, xviii. 

Bedford (Mass.), carriage factory at, 31. 

Beef, bought by the quarter, 149. 

Belleville, resident, 138. 

Berry, Elijah C, auditor, 142. 

Berry, William, state printer, 8. 

Bird, — , brickmaker, 116, 118. 

Birge, — , Greenville postmaster, 16, 72, 85. 

Black, James, pioneer, 7, 73-74, 85, 95, 115, 117, 121; 
at Vandalia, 142. 

Blackwell, Robert, pioneer, 7; sketch, 8-9. 

Blunehard, Elisha, pioneer, 7. 

Blanchard, Samuel, pioneer, 7. 

Blanchard, Seth, pioneer, 7. 

157 



sender 



Blanchard family, at Greenville, i6, 71-72, 85, 142. 
Blane, William Newnham. Excursion through the 

United States and Canada, 34. 
Bond County, settled, xiii, 13; divided, 15; county 

seat, 71; meeting in, 117, 120; church in, 146. 
Bonhomme (Mo.), residents, 10. 
Boston, port of departure, 11; interest in Illinois, 

15-16; shopping in, 38; emigrants from, 41, 134, 
Boston Medical College, professor, 5. 
Boston Recorder, editor, 42, 
Bowling Green (Ky.), law office at, 12. 
Braley, Andrew, married, 11. 
Braley, Eliza, mother, 128. 
Breath, Edward, missionary, 142. 
Breath, James, sketch, 10, 
Breath family, pioneers, 7, 88, 142. 
Brick-making, in Illinois, 115-116, 126-128. 
Bridgewater (Mass.), Academy, students, 5. 
Briggs, Mrs. — , grandmother of Mrs. Tillson, 31. 
Briggs, Charles, Harvard graduate, 16. 
Bright, Mrs. — , at St. Louis, 99-100. 
Brown, William H., pioneer, 7, 117, 120; wife, 75, 86 

1I7, 120; sketch, 8. 
Buflfalo (N. Y.), visited, 153. 
Buzan, Billy, rents farm, 72; mentioned, 123. 
Buzan, Jesse, pioneer, xvii, 27, 74,81-84,95,98, 122, 

144. 
Buzan, Mrs. Jesse, visitor, 122-123. 
Caleb, slave, 129, 134-136; desires manumission, 

136-138; sketch, 138-141. 
Cairo (111.), at mouth of Ohio, 46. 
Calhoun, early name for Springfield, 90. 
Calhoun County, settled, xii, 19. 
California, gold rush, 9. 
Candle-making, 97, 100, 149-150. 
Canton, settler, 12. 
Carlyle, visited, 70-71. 
Carver, Jonathan, land grant, 21. 
Carver (Mass.), emigrant from, 17, 73. , 

Caucus, in New York, 35. 

158 



S^ntiejc 



Chelsea (Mass.), residents, 5. 

Chicago, portage at, xiii; early settlers, 8, 10, 75, 95. 

Chicago Historical Society, xx. 

Chicago Theological Seminary, building, 21. 

Chillicothe (Ohio), route via, ^$, 39; hotel at, 37. 

Cincinnati, residents, 31, 36, 90; route via, 32-33; 
visited, 41, 43-44, iS3- 

Clarksville (Mo.), river town, 21. 

Clay, Henry, relatives, 108. 

Clemens, Mr. — , at St. Louis, 92. 

Clermont County (Ohio), crossed, 33. 

Clinton County, settled, xiii; seat, 70. 

Coffey, — , Hillsboro pioneer, 15. 

Coles, Edward, pioneer, 7; liberates slaves, 136; gu- 
bernatorial campaign, 137; in Philadelphia, 151; 
sketch, 9. 

Collins, Almira, married, 94. 

Collins, Augustus, pioneer, 7, 29-30, 53; sketch, 7. 

Collins family, remove West, 29-30; visited, 142. 

Collinsville, settled, 7-8, 30; visited, 142. 

Columbus (Ohio), route via, ss- 

Connecticut, emigrants frora, 7, 29, 90, 93; travel 
through, 34. 

Conover, — , in Illinois legislature, 77. 

Cook, Daniel P., pioneer editor, 8. 

Cook County, named, 8. 

Cotton, raised in Illinois, 106-107. 

Court week, in Illinois, 111-112. 

Cox, Thomas, pioneer, 90. 

Cumberland (Md.), route via, 33, 36. 

Cumberland Presbyterians, in Illinois, 78, 146. 

Cushman, Joshua, of Maine, 39. 

Cushman, Joshua Jr., in Ohio, 31, 36, 39-41. 

Cushman, Mrs. Jotham, accompanies Mrs. Tillson, 31, 
S3, 36, 42; incident concerning, 37-38; arrives at 
her son's, 40-41; sketch, 39. 

Danforth, Joseph, in Louisville, 45. 

Danforth, Joseph Jr., 45. 

Danforth, Julia, 45. 

Des Plaines River, trade route, xiii. 

159 



^nt^tx 



Dent, Frederick F., Mrs. Tillson meets, 44, 46. 

Dewey, Orval, pioneer, 7. 

Dickerson, John, builder, 126-128. 

Distillery, in Illinois, 30. 

Doris, housemaid, 111-113, 116, 118-119, 121-122. 

Downing, — , in New York, 154. 

Drake, Dr. — , pioneer physician, 132. 

Durfee, Miss — , married, 87. 

Duncan, Governor Joseph, 138. 

Dutch. See Germans. 

Eda, housemaid, no. 

Edgar County, population, xii. 

Education, in early Illinois, xvii, 87. 

Edwardsville, land office at, 8, 14-15, 17, 20; recorder, 

12-13, 28; school at, 87; visited, 88-89, 1435 bank 

at, 129. 
Edwardsville Spectator, iounded, 10; sold, 10; editor, 88. 
Elliot, — , St. Louis storekeeper, 91-92. 
Enos, Pascal P., founder of Springfield, 90; receiver of 
public money, 117; visits Tillsons, 1 18-120, 
Enos, Miss — , married, 91. 
Erie (Pa.), visited, 153, 
Erie Canal, route via, 153. 
Fayette County, divided, 15; history, 138. 
Fern, Fanny, authoress, 43. 
Ferry boats, at Wheeling, 36; at Shawneetown, 48; at 

Kaskaskia, 69; at St. Louis, 89. 
Fever and ague, in the West, 15, 28, 
Fight, described, 49-50, 
"Flitch," defined, 148. 
Forbes, John, road named for, 32. 
Forehand, Mrs. Jarvis, pioneer, 112. 
Fort Armstrong, built, xiii. 
Fort Clark, location, xiii. 
Fort Dearborn, built, xiii. 
Fort Edwards, location, xiii. 
Fort Winnebago, surgeon at, 10. 
Fox, Mr. — , Cincinnati inn keeper, 41. 
French, at St. Louis, 91, 93. 

Fulton County, settlers, 12, 21-22, 145; organized, 22. 
160 



Furniture, for log cabin, 98-100. 

Fur trade, in Illinois, xiii. 

Galena, residents, xix, 7, 8, 10, 16. 

Gallatin County, salines in, xii. 

Germans, in Pennsylvania, 35-36; in Illinois, 110. 

Giddings, Mrs. Almira, pioneer, 29-30. 

Giddings, Frederic, born, 30; at Quincy, 94. 

Gillett, Mrs. Dr., of Jacksonville, 29. 

Grant, Mrs. Ulysses S., married, 45. 

Greene County, settled, xii. 

Greenville, early settlers, 7, 16, 71-72, 75, 85; post 

office at, 16; brick making, 116; physician, 132; 

visited, 142. 
Halifax (Mass.), emigrants from, xvii, xix, 4, 11, 31, 

39, 124. 
Hablet, Moses, pioneer, 11-12, 15, 28. 
Hamilton, William S., pioneer, 7; sketch, 9. 
Hamilton. See Hillsboro. 
Hanna, Brice, pioneer, xvii, 69, 89; visited, 51, 55, 

57-68. 
Hanson (Mass.), 39. 
Hardy, — , Presbyterian minister, 56. 
Hartford (Conn.), resident, 93. 
Harvard College, graduate, 16. 
Hatch, — , Springfield pioneer, 91. 
Havana, settled, 22. 
Henry (111.) , early settler, 10. 
Hillsboro, settlers, xvii, 10, 12, 17; natives, xvm-xix; 

county seat, 15, 125; Tillsons move to, 125-128. 
Hillsboro Academy, founder, xvii. 
Hilton, — , Shawneetown landlord, 50. 
Hinckley, Mrs. Julia Townsend, 9-10; as a child, 128, 

^33- . . . ^„. . , 
Hind's Prairie, in Illinois, 65. 
Holmes, Ellen, married, loi. 

Home manufactures, 24-26. See also Candle making. 
Hopkins, Major — , hotel keeper, 88, 143. 
Hopkins, Polly, at Edwardsville, 88. 
Horn, — , farm hand, 114. 

Hough, Emerson, The Passing of the Frontier, xvi. 
161 



S^ntiejc 



Hoxie, — , pioneer, 28. 

Hubbard, Thomas, in Massachusetts, 39. 

Iles, EHjah, pioneer, 90. 

Illinois Central Railroad, trustee, 8. 

Illinois College, trustee, xvii; graduate, xviii. 

Illinois River, as a boundary, xiii, 6, 18; fur trade on, 

xiii; crossed, 19, 23. 
Illinois State Historical Library, xx. 
Indiana, crossed, $s'j roads in, 43. 
Indianapolis (Ind.), road to, 33. 
Infare, described, 144-145. 
Jacksonville, pioneers, 29. 
Jernegan family, in Ohio, 40-41. 
Joicy ("Kaintuck"), maid servant, 95, 97, 100, 107; 

sketch, 108-109. 
Jones, Deacon, Fulton County pioneer, 145. 
"Kaintuck." See Joicy. 
Kankakee River, as a boundary, 19. 
Kaskaskia, importance of, 47; road to, xii; legislature 

removes, 75; resident, 142. 
Kaskaskia Illinois Intelligencer, publisher, 8. 
Kaskaskia River, settlements on, xii-xiii; ferry over, 

69-70. 
Kentucky, emigrants from, 25, 138. 
Kerr, Augustus, at St. Louis, 91. 
Kerr family, at St. Louis, 91. 
Keyes, Willard, pioneer, 20; sketch, 21. 
Keyte, — , St. Louis resident, 95. 
Kickapoo Indians, in Illinois, xiii. 
Kilpatrick, David, pioneer, 24-27, 81, 44. 
Kilpatrick, Mrs. David, 120-121, 145. 
Kilpatrick, Peggy, early life, 25-26; married, 27, 

81-84. 
Kilpatrick, Polly, early life, 25-26; married, 24, 27. 
Kingston (Mass.), emigrants from, xviii, 32; visited, 

154- 
Lancaster (Ohio), route via, S3- 
Lancaster (Pa.), visited, 36. 
Lands, military bounty tract, xiii, 6, 19, 21-22, 135, 

145; speculation in, xvii; sales of, 135. 
162 



'^nhtx 



Lauthlin settlement, in Bond County, 117. 

Lead mines, in Illinois, 8; in Wisconsin, 9. 

Leggett family, pioneers, 7, 89. 

Lewis, Edmund, in Louisville, 45. 

Lewiston, settled, 21-22. 

Lexington (Ky.), road to, 3$. 

Lincoln, Abraham, cited, xv; in state legislature, 75. 

Lippincott, Thomas, pioneer clergyman, 7, 10; Log 

Cabin Days in the West, 11. 
Litchfield (Conn.), emigrants from, 7. 
Lockwood, Samuel, pioneer, 7; sketch, 8. 
Loomis, William, carpenter, 95-98, 100, 107, 109, 114, 

117-118, 148; military title, 109-110. 
Louisville (Ky.), visited, 44-45, 153; resident, 88. 
Lucy, slave, 128-129, 134-136; history, 138-141. 
Lynn (Mass.), native, 16. 
McClintock, — , Illinois surveyor, 57. 
Mackinac, fur trade emporium, xiii. 
Mackinaw boats, used by fur traders, xiii. 
McLaughlin, Col. Robert K., innkeeper, 138-141; 

sketch, 138. 
Macoupin County, settled, xii. 

Madison, President James, protege, 9; secretary, 137. 
Madison County, pioneers, 10, 90; land in, 13. 
Mail carriers, in Illinois, 105. 
Mail routes, in early Illinois, 125-126. 
Maine, emigrants from, in. 
Marine Prairie, settled, 7, 10, 88, 142. 
Marshall, — , Illinois pioneer, 60. 
Mason County, settled, 22. 
Massachusetts, emigrants from, xvii, 8, 16, 29, 32, 41, 

71, 90, 95; return to^ 53, 154; militia muster in, 73. 
Maysville (Ky.), port of entry, 7,7,. 
Methodists, in Illinois, 22, 28, 78, 80, loi, 146; at St. 

Louis, 94-95. 
Middleboro (Mass.), emigrants from, 17, 90. 
Military Bounty lands, location, xiii, 6, 19; claims in, 

21-22, 135, 145; beauty of , 23. 
Mills, Benjamin, pioneer, 7, 16, 71, in; sketch, 8. 
Milton, settlers, 10. 

163 



Mississippi River, as a boundary, xii, 6, i8; affluents, 

xiii; exploration along, 20, 22; bluffs of, 22-23; 

crossed in ferry, 89. 
Missouri, travelers to, 10, 12, 15, 28; residents, 45. 

See also St. Louis. 
Monroe, James, appointments, 90. 
Montgomery County, settlers, xvii-xviii, 10, 118; or- 
ganized, 12, 15; sheriff, 8; mail for, 105; brick 

house in, 127; county seat, 125-126. 
Mullanphy family, at St. Louis, 92. 
Munn, Stephen B., correspondent, 131. 
Nantucket (Mass.) , emigrants from, 40. 
National Road, described, S3, 36. 
Nelly, servant maid, 139. 
New England, elements in Illinois, xi, xiv, xvii, 7-10, 

16, 134. See also the several states. 
New Hampshire, emigrants from, 10. 
New Haven (Conn.), visited, 34. 
New Jersey, emigrants from, 10; crossed, 32, 35. 
New Orleans, steamboats for, 45-46, 98; goods carried 

to, 106; slave market, 139, 141, 
New York City, emigrants from, 9; interest in Illinois, 

15-16; route via, 32; visited, 34-35, 153-154. 
New York state, emigrants from, 8-10, 20-21, 85, 87. 
Newhall, Dr. Horatio, pioneer physician, 7, 16, 71, 132; 

sketch, 10. 
Niagara Falls, visited, 153. 
Nickerson, John. See Dickerson. 
North Carolina, emigrants from, 12, 129. 
Ohio, crossed, 33, 36-37, 43; roads in, 37. 
Ohio River, as a boundary, xii- fiat boats on, 8, 12, 32 ; 

crossed, 36; described, 44; voyage on, 44-46; 

mouth, 107. 
Paddock, Julia, married, 92. 
Paddock family, at St. Louis, 90, 92, 94, 99, 143. 
Palmyra (N. Y.), emigrants from, 87. 
Parkman, Dr. George, murdered, 5-6. 
Pease, Theodore C, The Frontier State, xii. 
Pennsylvania, roads in, 32; travel through, 35-36. 
Pennsylvania wagon, in Illinois, 54. 
164 



'^nhtx 



Peoria, fort at, xiii; residents, xviii. 

Peoria Lake, poem on, 23. 

Perrin, W. H., History of Bond and Montgomery Coun- 
ties, 126. 

Perrine, Dr. — , pioneer, 11, 16. 

Persia, missionary to, 142. 

Peters, Rev. Samuel, and Carver claims, 21. 

Philadelphia (Pa.), route via, 32; visited, 35-36, 151; 
emigrants from, 91, 99. 

Pike County, organized, 19; settlers, 20-22; county 
seat, 9. 

Pittsburgh, point of departure, 12, 153. 

Plummer, Rev. — , Baptist preacher, 11 2-1 14. 

Plymouth (Mass.), point of departure, 32. 

Population, of early Illinois, xii, xiv. 

Porter, William, pioneer, 7, 17, 83, 91, 113-114; ill, 113, 
118; goes to Springfield, 120. 

Portland Eastern Argus, editor, 42. 

Post office, in Montgomery County, 16, 125. 

Potawatami Indians, in Illinois, xiii. 

Prairie du Chien (Wis.), visitors, 21. 

Prairies, in Illinois, 65-66, 69. 

Presbyterians, in Illinois, xvii, 9-10; in St. Louis, 93; 
protracted meeting, 117. 

Prices, at St. Louis, 100. 

Providence (R. I.), visited, 34, 152, 154. 

QuAiFE, Milo M., historical introduction, v-xxi. 

Quincy, site, 22; residents, xix, 20-21, 73, 94; rival 
town, 9; visited, 43; historical museum, xx. 

Quincy Historical Society, home, 21. 

Quincy Whig, xix. 

Railroads, in Illinois, xviii. 

Randall, Josias, United States recorder, 12-13, 15, 28. 

Real Estate. See lands. 

Religious service, in Illinois, 78-81; at St. Louis, 93- 

95- 
Roads, corduroy, 37, 52; across Pennsylvania, 32; 

national, 12, 33, 36; in early Illinois, xii, 46, 72. 
Rock Island, fort at, xiii. 
Rock River, mouth, xiii. 

165 



Ross, Lewis, pioneer, 22. 

Ross, Ossian M., pioneer, 21-22; sketch, 31. 

Ross family, pioneers, 7, 9. 

Rountree, Aaron Hubbard, baptized, loi. 

Rountree, Emily A. H., baptized, 10 1. 

Rountree, Judge Hiram, pioneer, 12, 13, 15, 17, 28, 
73-74, 96, 101-102; builds new cabin, 125-126; 
assistant postmaster, 126, 131. 

Rountree, Hiram Hawkins, baptized, loi. 

Rountree, John, baptized, loi. 

St. Charles (Mo.), residents, 90. 

St. Louis, travel to, xii, 24, ^s^ 4^, 86, 89, 108; resi- 
dents, xviii-xix, 10, 30; money from, 74; visited, 
89-95, 98, 142-143, 152; goods from, loi, 124; 
market, 122. 

Salines, in Illinois, xii. 

Sanders, — , married, 29. 

Sangamon County, capital removed to, 75; legislators 
from, 77; land office for, 90, 117-118. 

Sauk and Fox Indians, in Illinois, xiii. 

Seventh-day Baptists. See Baptists. 

Seward, Butler, pioneer, 77, 144. 

Seward, George, as a child, 75. 

Seward, Harriet, as a girl, 75-88, 81, 83; married, ' 
86. 

Seward, Col. Israel, pioneer, 7, 15, 74-77, 85-86, 105, 
125; visited, i44-i4S- 

Seward, Israel Jr., at Vandalia, 75. 

Seward, John, in legislature, 75. 

Sev/ard, William, as a child, 75. 

Seymour, Sarah, with Mrs. Tillson, 1 29-131, 133, 145. 

Shaw, John, Pike County pioneer, 19-20. 

Shawneetown, road to, xii; port of entry, 12, 45-46, 51, 
65, 67-68; hotel at, 46-50; sketch, 47. 

Shoal Creek, in Bond County, 72, 125. 

Shoal Creek Church, organized, 146. 

Shumway, Hiram, mother, 10 1. 

Shurtleff, Dr. Benjamin, college named for, 4; in Bos- 
ton, 5; land purchase, 6. 

Shurtleff, Benjamin Jr., farmer, 5. 
166 



^nhtx 



Shurtleff, Milton, pioneer, 17, 73-75, 87, 97, 115; mar- 
ried, 23-24, 27; build cabin, 28; described, 76. 

Shurtleff College, named, 4. 

Simpson, John, visits Illinois, 17-18, 95. 

Singing school, in Illinois, 16-17. 

Slavery, laws concerning, 136-137; manumission, 136; 
during territorial days, 138-141. See also anti- 
slavery. 

Slocum family, Illinois pioneers, 7. 

Snow, Henry H., pioneer, 7; at St. Louis, 94; sketch, 9. 

Southerners, in Illinois, xiv, 24-25, 47, 102; in Ohio, 

42-43- 
Spencer, O. M., Indian Captivity, 32. 
Springfield, library at, xx; residents, 9, 90, 120; editor, 

10; road to, 72; becomes capital, 75; mail route 

to, 105. 
Squatters, on Illinois land, 13-14. 
Starr, — , Illinois lawyer, in. 
Steamboats, on the Ohio, 44-46. 
Stoughton (Mass.), emigrants from, 71. 
Stratton, Miss — , married, 122. 
Streel, Father, Baptist preacher, 112. 
Sturtevant, Stafford, mentioned, 4. 
Sunday Schools, in Illinois, 10, 146-147. 
Syria, missionary to, 88. 
Taylor, Father, Methodist preacher, 80. 
Taylor, John, pioneer, 90. 
Tennessee, emigrants from, 14, 24. 
Tenth Illinois Infantry, colonel, xix. 
Tiffany, Rev. — , of Chicago, 95. 
Tiffany and Keyte, St. Louis merchants, 95. 
Tillson, Charles, arrives in Illinois, 34, 134, 136. 
Tillson, Charles Holmes, born, 120; illness, 143; bap- 
tized, 146; as a child, 142, 152. 
Tillson, Christiana Holmes, emigrates to Illinois, 4; 

description of journey, 31-69; in Illinois, 70-141; 

visits, 142-154; sketch, xviii. 
Tillson, John, the elder, 5, 34. 
Tillson, John, Illinois pioneer, 4, 11-12; married, xviii; 

illness, 129-132, 134; postmaster, 125. 
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Tillson, John Jr., born, 128; baptized, 146; as a child, 
133, 152; inQuincy, 73; sketch, xix. 

Tillson, Robert, goes West, 31, 36, 44-46, 64, 72-74; 
at Shawneetown, 48-49, 62; in land office, 74, 85, 
106; at brother's home, 114, 118, 134, 149; house- 
keeping, 95-97, 100, no; store keeping, 124-125, 
136; at Vandalia, 129, 135; returns, 132; sketch, 
xix. 

Townsend, Charles, as a child, 11. 

Townsend, Edwin, visited, 87. 

Townsend, Eleazar, Montgomery County pioneer, 
8-10, 15, 144; at Vandalia, 87. 

Townsend, Mrs. Eleazar, children, 128; visits, 133, 135. 

Townsend, Rev. Jesse, Illinois pioneer, 11, 16, 28, 74, 
85, 88; visited, 87, 117, 144. 

Townsend, John, as a child, 11. 

Townsend, Julia. See Hinckley. 

Townsend, Rosetta, with Mrs. Tillson, 128-129, 135, 
146, 152; grandfather, 154; married, 11. 

Unionville. See Collinsville. 

Universalists, at St. Louis, 94. 

Vandalia, capital of Illinois, 8-9, 75, 77, 87, 115, 126, 
129, 142; road to, 72, no; mail from, 126; land 
sales at, 135, 145; hotel, 138; sketch, 75. 

Vermont, emigrants from, 16, 21. « 

Vincennes (Ind.), road to, xii. 

Virginia, emigrants from, 9, 42-43, 136-138. 

Wabash River, as a boundary, xii; fur trade on, xiii; 
settlements near, 20. 

War of 1812, in Illinois, xiii; land bounty for, 6, 21-22. 

Warburton, John, at St. Louis, 93. 

Warren, Hooper, Illinois pioneer, 7; editor, 88; sketch, 
10. 

Washing, in pioneer days, 147-148. 

Washington (D. C), visited, 117. 

Washington County, settled, xiii. 

Webster, Dr. John W., murderer, 5-6. 

Wheeling (Va.), route via, 33, 36. 

White, Bela, married, 122. 

"White folks," origin of term, 24-25. 
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'^ntxtx 



Williams College, graduate, 93. 

Williamsburg (Ohio), route via, S3, 36; visited, 39-40. 
Willis, serving man, 1 29-131. 
W^illis, Nathaniel, in Ohio, 42-43. 
W^illis, Nathaniel Jr., Ohio editor, 42-43. 
Willis, Nathaniel P., poet, 43. 
Willis, Richard, incident concerning, 43. 
Winnebago Indians, in Illinois, xiii. 
Wiota (Wis.), founder, 9. 
Wisconsin, pioneers, 10, 21. 
Wisconsin State Historical Society, xx. 
Women, in pioneer history, xv-xvi. 
Wood, John, pioneer, 7; sketch, 20-21. 
Wright, Joel, Illinois pioneer, 7, 28, 106; sheriff, 8, 15, 
17, 27; in recorder's office, 12-13; horse, 118-119. 
Yankee, significance of, xiv-xv, 25, 122-123. 
Yellow fever, in New York, 34-35. 
Yoakum, Commodore, squatter, 13-14, 25, 144. 
Yoakum Station, in Tennessee, 14. , 
Youth's Companion, founded, 42-43. 
Zane's Trace, in Ohio, ^s- 
Zanesville (Ohio), route via, S3, 37- 



169 



